


Amare Serpentem

by fulgeo_ortu



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, They do the deed, Vampire/Vampire Hunter AU, cant believe im typing this but, frederick is a priest, henry is a vampire, i should be studying for finals, oh? a character with a Traumatic Backstory? time to Project, tags added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulgeo_ortu/pseuds/fulgeo_ortu
Summary: Vampires were not of the living; they were merely viruses and parasites that invariably had to kill the Goddess’ sheep to survive. If they were not born cold blooded, they were made so, and those lost sheep were mere shells of who they once were and needed to be put out of their misery so that their soul could become whole again in the life beyond. Frederick hated vampires, but his feelings began to change after a snake slithered into his garden of Eden and tempted him to taste the apple.
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Frederick/Henry (Fire Emblem), one sided Henry/Licht | Ricken
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Primum Scelus

**Author's Note:**

> Amare Serpentem: to love a serpent  
> Primum Scelus: the first sin  
> there hasn't been any stuff in the frederick/henry tag focused purely on them for a year so i decided to post mine for any starving souls like me. i started this when i had to read the scarlet letter and frankenstein for class (i somehow got Really Into Them) then fell in love with their writing styles and tried to mix them with my own.  
> I hope you guys like it!!

Ever since Frederick saw a monster of a man leeching the life from his mother with his soulless brother collapsed on the cold stone floor of his own school, Frederick became a murderer in the same sense that one takes a life when one claps their hands to crush a blood sucking insect. He was heralded as a saint, an executioner of demons, and given more opportunities than a young boy of twelve years should have. He was admitted to become a vampire hunter, as beasts were meant to be hunted, and learned that vampires were not of the living; they were merely viruses and parasites that invariably had to kill the Goddess’ sheep to survive. If they were not born cold blooded, they were  _ made  _ so, and those lost sheep were mere shells of who they used to be and needed to be put out of their misery so that their soul could become whole again in the life beyond. 

Above all, Frederick hated vampires. One after the other, Frederick slayed more monsters than one treads upon ants, his title growing and becoming heavier with each head until he reached the title of  _ Royal Guard.  _ He could fight in wars just as well as he could fend off foes who held ill will for the crown. A master of deduction and ever cautious, he could spot an assassin from miles away. The capital and all surrounding cities rid themselves of the fleas under Frederick’s watch, and peace presided for years until he was called away to stomp out a suspected infestation in a town of thieves. 

The men and women who lived there were rough around the edges, as were their scars. Some had less than ten fingers, two ears, one tongue, or two hands. Others were dressed ostentatiously in dark blues, golds, and royal reds, rings adorning their intact limbs. It was obvious who the kingpins were, and those who were not. With the royal symbol and brand of Naga emblazoned on his clothes and his holy arrival with the sun, not even the most courageous thief dared to approach him;  _ everyone  _ wanted the vampires eradicated. Every last one of them was a blemish upon humanity; they were the ultimate kiss of death. 

Frederick caught sight of a cloaked duo escaping into the dark and dreary allies and decided to follow them back to whatever cave they slept in. Still, it was too simple. Vampires are known to be cunning, yet the animals were no brighter than lemmings. While keeping a safe distance between the three of them, Frederick observed how they were tripping over themselves with exhaustion, their movements feeble as their stomachs growled. They were emaciated, which explained why they were still out so early in the morning and risking death as the sky grew orange. The duo gave off no particular smell, meaning that they had not landed a kill and were most likely subordinate to another vampire. If a set of vampires are starving in a lawless town where people seem to go missing left and right, there must be too much competition. Cluelessly, the beasts led their hunter straight to their home. 

It was an unremarkable abode, built with gray bones and a plain, wooden mouth; it did not have eyes, and it appeared that there was not a soul inside. Ironically, morning glories flourished on either side of the door, which had been bolted shut. The creatures inside would never be able to appreciate the natural beauty that light had blessed them with. By the time the sun was almost at full force and splattered through the canopy of leaves above them, not a single thing inside had moved. The monsters inside must have feared the day and haunted the night. 

With the sun alone on his side, Frederick entered the hive. He was equipped with a flask of Naga’s tears; one drop in the mouth of a sleeping vampire is more than enough to kill it. If the pests began to wake, the hunter had a hammer to crush their skulls with. Inside, the house resembled that of a serpent’s wintertime hide. The worms littered what little furniture there was, all sound asleep, so Frederick began the cleansing. One after the other, they were exterminated. Each drop of Naga’s tears immediately began to froth and melt away the vampires’ skin without a single one raising the guard and waking the others. The tears rendered their vocal cords useless and burned away their throats and windpipes before reaching the spinal cord and wreaking havoc. As he made his way further into the hive, he felt a pair of curious eyes on him, but he could not for the life of him find the source. All at once, the vampires opened their eyes and focused directly on Frederick, their eyes shining red in the darkness. One tried to escape, so the hunter bashed the hammer against its skull and sent it to the ground, twitching like a struck fly as Frederick drove the heel of his boot into its spine and brought the hammer down upon its head, killing it in a split second. The others regarded the hunter as a lowly robber and began to stalk around the room, hissing periodically to attract their killer’s attention from the true threat. They crashed down on him like a wave. He flung the rest of Naga’s tears at them to take out the first wave before switching to his hammer and crushing his enemies. Once their bodies were so broken that they could not bear to move, the slayer went about popping skull after skull like a gardener dutifully plucking weeds. Fear and hatred shone in their red eyes until the steel head of the hammer blocked out what little light there was. 

There was an entire floor the hunter had yet to check, so he climbed up the stairs as silently as a fog descends upon a town. He was the one thing preserving the town’s life from the ultimate death. 

  
Upstairs, the entire floor was made up of a maze of bookshelves that never seemed to end. There was no order or means to the organization, it seemed. The hunter could smell a sweet, hypnotic smell permeating from the other side of the maze and, despite his instincts screaming at him to mask his nose and mouth from the scent, decided to follow it. The smell held a dual nature; one being inviting and gentle, the other inducing fear and anxiousness as to how powerfully convincing the scent was. Whatever was on the other side of the maze was without a doubt powerful, almost  _ godlike.  _ Soon, he could hear the sounds of pages turning and see the golden hue of candlelight radiating from behind one last wall of shelves. Once the hunter finally stepped out of the maze, he was hit full force with the scent upon seeing a figure casually reading a tome by candlelight. Images of roaming the royal gardens and adventuring the woods with Chrom and Lissa as children flashed through his mind until he was snapped out of his reverie by the figure turning around with a smile as bright as the sun, offering a kind, “Hi!” The monstrous beast was barely a man, perhaps twenty or twenty-five at most. Its white hair looked soft to the touch, just like a snowshoe rabbit’s fur. Its lips curled innocently around long, pearly fangs, just as one would do upon seeing an old friend. Frederick could feel his heart softening and blinked hard to clear his mind of treasonous thoughts.

The young man stood, hugging his book to his chest, and greeted, “My name is Henry. What’s yours?” A drop of blood from his hammer splattered against the floor as the hunter answered, “I am Sir Frederick of the royal guard, and I am here to put you out of your misery.” With a bubbling giggle, the vampire replied, “It’s nice to meet you, Freddy! Sure, I miss the sun, but I don’t think I’m suffering; I have all the time I want to read books, silly boy. Still, if you really have your heart set on killing poor little old me, then go ahead, but I’m going to take a nap. I’m always tired nowadays. It’s a lot easier to live in Plegia because more people are nice to us there. People here won’t even let us have swine’s blood if we try to purchase it.” Before the hunter could stop himself, he questioned, “Why do you stay here then?” Henry tiredly made his way over to his futon and laid across it, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back before going slack and rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child.

“I wanted to see something new. Plegia’s in a bit of a depression right now, and I have a lot of bad memories of the place anyways. You can kill me however you want. I can’t feel pain, so don’t be afraid to make it bloody, Freddy.” Frederick was powerless to raise his hammer, so instead, he demanded an explanation. With a sigh, Henry sat up once more, murmuring, “It’s easier to show you than tell you,” and turned his back to the hunter. He began unbuttoning the front of his shirt and unclasped his cape, sliding them off the soft curves of his shoulders to expose his bony spine. His back was adorned with heavy scars that decorated his skin like love bites and took Frederick’s breath away. His smooth skin was gnarled and torn with scars that refused to fade. Frederick let go of his hammer and reached his hand out to touch Henry. The smell grew stronger as he approached, as did its power over him. It reached into the deepest depths of his memories, pulling out every happy moment of his life. It evoked thoughts of being cradled in his mother’s arms, pat on the head by his father, embraced by the soon-to-be exalt. He was lured in, hypnotized as a mouse peering into the black eyes of a snake. Frederick had never before felt so calm, even as he ran his palm along the monster’s raised skin. In the same singsong voice, Henry innocently asked, “Why do you hunt vampires?” 

The calmed beast felt no hatred as he answered, “When I was a child, I saw one kill my brother and mother.” The snow white boy hummed in thought before implying, “I’m not that vampire, though. Neither was anyone else here, I presume. Why are you here to kill me, Freddy?” As sure as he was that the sun would rise and set, Frederick answered with the righteousness of a priest, “It is what is right and good for both humanity and vampires. You are suffering, and you live by harming others. These scars… They prove that you have barely managed to survive. One might assume that it would be less painful to die.” 

“I already told you, Freddy; I’m doing better than ever.” Frederick dared to step even closer so that his chest was flush to the cracked porcelain and moved to wind his arms around the fragile, lithe waist of the vampire, but the creature slipped from his grasp to lay down, stretching and arching his back like an attention starved kitten, going as far as letting out an intoxicating mewl as he reached his apex. Frederick was left reaching after him and flinched as Henry began pulling his clothes back on. It seemed cruel to drag a holy man from the heavens only to deny him the sin he craved so dearly. 

Breathlessly, Frederick asked with his halo weighing heavy on his head, “Did the one who turned you leave those scars..?” The vampire turned his back to Frederick as if bored with a new toy already and wound his cape around him like a mother’s embrace, questioning to himself, “Why do men see vampires as monsters when men themselves are truly evil and beastly at heart?” It was at that exact moment that the comforting smell vanished from the room, taking his breath with it and leaving Frederick suffocating, and he was left wishing that it had remained; it would be easier to rationalize his actions and feelings in the future, blaming them on the blood-sucking serpent’s deception. 

Still struggling to fill his lungs with air, the hunter asked, “A  _ man  _ did that to you..?” With a nonchalant, “Uh-huh,” as if the physical scars did not so much as graze his soul, the vampire explained, “Lots of people. My mom, my dad, my teachers.” With one glance at the hunter’s visage, Henry insisted, “No, no, no, silly priest! Don’t look at me like that; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for me. I absolutely  _ hate  _ it when people look at me like that, and I don’t hate many things. You’re here to kill me, remember? Go on, get your hammer and pop my head like a grape!” He meant it. His expression was insistent, telling the hunter to raise the hammer and bring it down as hard as one who was pure of heart could. The hunter obeyed him and gripped the handle of what had become his signature method of doling out retribution. “Hey,” Henry teased, “should I do a funny pose? Go out with a bang, you know? Should we fight to the death, just for funsies? No, never mind; I went to all this effort to get comfortable, so I might as well stay this way. Really though, go ahead, Freddy; I promise I won’t try to fight back!” As Frederick raised the bloody hammer above his head in an arc as smooth and refined as the curve of a crescent moon, he found himself thinking about how odd the little vampire was. He was obviously powerful, so why was he facing death head on with a toothy grin? His face was too gentle; it did not exude any signs of deceit or ill will. His skin was stretched over his bones and tendons; he must have been starving. The hypnotizing smell was gone, yet as Frederick reached the highest point of his swing, he found that he could not bring himself to kill the vampire. 

The oversized hammer clattered against the ground in a resounding conclusion to the night. Frederick, shaken to his core and frustrated to the point of bitter tears, demanded in a hushed voice,  _ “What did you  _ do  _ to me..?” _ In complete contrast, Henry giggled, “I didn’t do a thing, O Great Sir Frederick. You came to the conclusion that you wouldn’t bash my head in yourself. Nobody can make that decision but you—”

“But—” the hunter sputtered, “the— the pheromones..!” Henry tsked teasingly as he corrected, “You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t brainwash people; I just calm them down. That’s how I was able to talk to you before you killed me without even knowing my name. Like I said before, you realized that you didn’t really  _ want  _ to kill me after we talked; you realized that vampires aren’t all bad, and that’s scary for someone who’s dedicated their life to killing thousands of vampires who were probably no different from everybody else.” The guilt slammed into Frederick’s heart like an anvil even as his morality and mind fought for control over their host. Not yet recognizing the effect of his words on Frederick, Henry continued, “One of the ladies here became a vampire to save her students, you know. She was very kind to me too--said I looked like one of her kids. After the other villagers figured out that she was turned, they hanged her family, but she got away and came here. Another one took really good care of me whenever I was turned; he made sure I knew how to handle everything, how to live without seeing the sun, how to get my hands on some blood without hurting anyone, that sort of thing. Then a third lady— oh. You probably don’t want to hear any of that, do you?” As the hope that the vexing little vampire was simply a sniveling liar vanished, the realization of what Frederick had done uncoiled slowly in his mind before being reflected in his expression. Henry’s smile collapsed slightly with concern for the fallen hunter as he reached out for the brunette’s wrist, gently tugging the man to sit beside him. 

_ Perhaps,  _ the hunter thought,  _ this vampire is different from the rest.  _ Voicing his thoughts, Frederick asked, “Are you the only one like this..?” Curiosity laden in his near-blank smile, Henry questioned, “What do you mean? Odds are, I have a doppelgänger somewhere—”

“I meant, are you the only vampire with a heart?” Henry gently grabbed Frederick’s hand and led it to press its palm flat against where his heart was laying in his chest, beating away as he stated, “We all have a heart; we would be dead without one.” 

“Figuratively,” Frederick began softly, almost shocked at the prospect of something he was taught to be dead having a heartbeat, but Henry stopped him by finishing, “Figuratively and literally, we would be dead without a heart.” Frederick only then realized exactly how small the vampire was, what with the width of his sinning hand almost reaching from pale shoulder to pale shoulder. 

“Some people don’t have hearts, just like some vampires don’t either.” His pale, slender fingers were cold on Frederick’s own. “You have a heart too, you know. You went off to war for what you thought was right and to protect your family and friends. You’re no different than a soldier. I used to be a soldier for the Plegian army. I killed a  _ lot  _ of people. All of us did. You know why I decided to join? I had nowhere else to go, and they were offering shoes; I had gone barefoot for about… ten years before that, so it was an obvious choice to make. They took  _ really  _ good care of me. The generals even had me over to their houses for dinner with their wives and kids whenever we stopped by their hometown. They gave me clothes and food and a place to belong, so of course I killed for them. In your case, they probably made you feel important and welcome, right? Gave you fancy titles and a purpose in life to protect the citizens? How old were you when you started training to be a hunter? Sixteen? Eighteen maybe?” 

“Twelve,” Frederick replied in a hushed voice, as if he was a boy again, confessing to have gotten bad marks on a test, “I was twelve.” 

“You were a kid, Frederick. Kids aren’t supposed to go to war.” 

“Children are not supposed to have scars either.” Henry let out a laugh, and Frederick could feel the vibrations from it in his hand. “Touché,” the Plegian replied as he wrapped Frederick’s arm in a hug, as if he could do away with all of the hunter’s pain and regret. In a sing-song voice that changed the mood of the conversation altogether, Henry asked, “How long are you going to stay here, Freddy Bear? Are you leaving tonight? A few days? A week maybe?  _ Forever?  _ I’d love to finally have a friend here!” Deep down, Frederick was terrified to find himself smiling at the vampire as he replied, “I have allotted to spend two nights here and travel back the next morning.” Humming softly, Henry softly rested his head against the shoulder of the man who was almost his killer like he was a child who placed too much trust in those who were undeserving. “I guess that’s enough time. Tell me about yourself then.” 

“Well,” Frederick began, unused to speaking of himself to others, “I am head of the royal guard, and—” 

“You’re telling me about what you do, not who you are, silly! You’re supposed to tell me about your hobbies or who your first crush was or what you think about when you go on walks alone—  _ that  _ sort of thing. I suppose you take your job very seriously, right? What else?” Almost stumbling on his words at the implications of what exactly Henry wanted to know, Frederick explained, “I— I like to cook and sew. Is that… good..?” With an almost imperceptible squeeze, the vampire gave encouragement to the shaken man, slowly putting the pieces of the man’s psyche back together. “Very good! I bet you’d be the best husband  _ ever;  _ don’t you think so? I feel like you’d be the type to, like, kiss little tiny scratches and stuff. What’s your family like?” 

The hunter had neither seen nor heard from his family in two years despite the entire group living in the same city, and he found it odd and ironic that to protect his family, he had to leave them. “I have another younger brother named Adam; he is still in training to become a knight like my father and myself. He is more… outgoing and adventurous than I. He was married to a merchant’s daughter last spring. I also have two younger sisters. The older one is named Margaret, and she is the one who taught me how to embroider and sew. She is a very refined and modest woman, and she married a statesman much like herself. My youngest sister Adalyn likes to cause a bit of drama everywhere she goes; her dream is to become an actress. She went off and married a farm boy without either parents’ permission. Despite all of her faults, she is always there to support her friends through everything.” A coldness encased Frederick’s hand as Henry felt along the man’s flesh, evidently searching for  _ something.  _ His motive was exposed by the question, “If you’re the oldest, why aren’t you married yet? Aren’t you supposed to be your parents’ first priority for marriage?” 

Frederick had shoved down all hope of marriage long ago. He found that when he courted someone, something in his stomach burned like a hot iron. Like a seasick sailor, he grew nauseous as if the mere thought of kissing a woman’s hand was so utterly wrong, but the alternative was something the ill man would not dare to consider. He had seen what happened to men who had allowed themselves to find love elsewhere. They were ostracized as if they had some disease, and when they walked the town streets, children eventually came to learn that something was different about them. Children flung mud and rocks as if they were spears straight at the hearts of the men as they shouted words that their parents did not have the gall to say outside of the comfort of their home. It could and would never happen to him, Frederick had resolved years ago. In defense of his honor, the hunter replied, “I do not wish to be married.” Humming in thought, the little vampire rested his head back against his hunter’s shoulder, evidently as unconvinced as an all-seeing god. 

“How old are you?” The question caught the hunter by surprise, as the previous question seemed to be much more personal. Still, Frederick chose to humor Henry as he continued to consider his choices, answering, “Thirty.” Frederick heard the sweet sound of Henry’s laughter as the beautifully boyish man teased,  _ “Old man,  _ I was twenty three when I was turned! Hey, hey, try to guess how old I  _ really  _ am; it’s always fun to see people guess!” When Frederick turned to examine Henry, he was met once more with a smile that was brighter than the afternoon sun. 

  
  


He found himself cringing at the blissful expression; he had almost killed something that possessed so much beauty in one simple action. Such an act resembled crushing a pure white lily underfoot or lighting an oil painting by one of the masters ablaze; it had to be a sin, yet the goddess herself warned that demons had the ability to be so  _ painfully  _ beautiful, that the vampires were to be killed, not trusted. Even Grima, until mere seconds before his fall, was thought to be the most beautiful manakete in the world. Examining the vampire up close, Frederick found himself enamored by the simple beauty of Henry. It was almost as if he had been sculpted out of white marble and brought to life, carved out with a talented hand to express the heart wrenching product of stained innocence. The boy was painfully thin. He needed food as badly as a man lost amid the desert dunes needed water. Frederick had half a mind to offer himself to the boy and perhaps atone for some of his misdeeds in the mind of the lone survivor of his own massacre. Still, willingly giving blood to a vampire is punishable by death, just as how knowingly aiding a serial killer will send one straight to the gallows. 

As Frederick’s silence lingered like a stubborn shadow, Henry cracked his eyes open to glimpse what was taking so long, exposing hazed over irises. The sight was breathtakingly horrifying; the candlelight created the illusion of the eyes glowing with the fires of hell. The vampire was reading mere moments ago, so when and how did his eyes come to resemble a corpse’s? In fact, the cloudy appearance was worsening by the second as the creature’s eyes continued to lighten. 

Panicked, Frederick questioned demandingly, “What has happened to your eyes?! Can you not see?” He was struck by the thought that the creature hugged tight around his arm might have been dying. Having found such a revelation, panic almost consumed him like a man drowning in turbulent waves. A dark part of him whispered that it was for the best; there would be no evidence of his spiritual betrayal. In return for his genuine concern, he received a bubbling giggle, almost taunting, “Aww, are you worried about little old me? How sweet! Really though, it’s no big deal or anything—” 

“How do we fix it?” With a mischievous smile, Henry claimed, “I will only tell you  _ after  _ you guess how old I am, you worrywart.” Frederick, having been caught off guard by the lax and uncaring reaction, thought to himself,  _ How insolently stubborn could a living thing be? He’s more concerned with playing a game than his sight!  _

“You do not act a day over five years old. How do you not worry in this situation?” 

“Because,” Henry snickered, “I’ve fixed it before, and I can fix it again. Now  _ please,  _ Freddy, you need to calm down. There is nothing to worry for.” When Frederick began to protest once more, he noticed the familiar smell of lavender, chamomile, and pine trees. The scent invaded his senses until it was all that he could recognize. The hunter recalled carrying the youngest princess on his back through the royal garden as he followed the prince to the group’s favorite tree, a century old oak with arms that protected the trio as their parents were too busy to give the children so much as a pat on the head. He felt a light kiss on his cheek and expected to find the childish, sunkissed Lissa when he turned but instead was met with a pale, grinning vampire. 

“You’re going to get gray hairs if you keep on worrying about things, Freddy Bear,” he warned, teeth glinting in the candlelight. His lips had felt so soft against his skin that Frederick became enamored. With all thoughts of punishment and being cast out gone from his mind, Frederick lifted his hand and gently pressed his palm against Henry’s cheek, caressing his feather-soft skin. Henry almost purred as he leaned into the warm touch, blissfully closing his eyes as the two slowly pressed their foreheads together, closing the space between them like two planets ready to collide. As their lips brushed for the first time, the atmosphere began to burn with Frederick vaguely questioning what he was doing. Henry was a virtual stranger, let alone a Plegian  _ and  _ a vampire, so why did he feel so obsessed with the one person who symbolized the enemy in every sense of the word? In the same sense, the answer was glaringly obvious. 

They were strangers,  _ enemies _ even who had been fated to destroy each other.

And yet they had not.

They had healed each other instead as if their chance meeting was a miracle from some guilt-ridden god. Frederick found himself finally free from armor, title, and expectations he was given at such a young age and forced to grow into. It was as if Henry had filled in the cracks he had gained from marching through the pressure despite the pain. Frederick supplied to Henry a light of hope, a reason to not wander into the welcoming arms of sunlight. In the priest, he could see a gentle yet vivacious spirit whom he was willing to cherish and watch for as long as the priest allowed him.

As they finally met in a kiss that was their first, Frederick found that he did not—  _ could  _ not care. He had been lied to, and he wondered what other lies he had accepted as undeniable truths. Slowly, the scent dissipated, and Henry pulled away to offer a loving smile. His heart betrayed him as it began thumping wildly in his chest, knowing full well what had just happened and how impossible it would be to fix. The feeling vanished like a fleeting dream as Henry’s smile turned into a childish grin, and Frederick was left feeling as though he had been cruelly fooled. Henry seemed proud of himself for having dragged out such a colorful reaction from the hunter, but his smile fell when Frederick buried his face in his hands. He approached the man cautiously, like a rabbit inspecting a sleeping fox, and quietly asked, “What’s wrong..? Did I do something bad..?” 

Frederick found himself laughing painfully at himself, echoing,  _ “What’s wrong?  _ I was sent here to kill you, and I kissed you instead. We’re both men, and I just broke  _ five laws  _ in the span of a few damned seconds. It’s enough to get me hanged, Henry.” Nervously, as if realizing that he had done something horrible to another person when he was only trying to help, Henry mumbled, “Maybe the laws shouldn’t be laws. Do you think they’re good laws?” It was not the place of anyone who was not royalty to decide if a law was just or unjust. That was something only the exalt could decide. Still… they were not fair. 

“You don’t have to tell anyone,” Henry tempted, “I won’t. I—… I’m sorry for causing you all this trouble. I should’ve just let you kill me. You still can, if it’ll make you feel better. I’d walk right out into the sun if you asked me to.” Just as Henry stood and began to walk away and leave the priest be, Frederick grabbed him by the waist and gently tugged the vampire into his lap, tightening his arms around his lithe waist and burying his face into the swath of his pale neck, pleading,  _ “Don’t… please…”  _ The Plegian felt stiff in his hands, attempting to fathom a human willingly choosing to hold him without any effects of pheromones before slowly melting like ice into the warm body around him. 

At a barely audible tone, Frederick wondered aloud, “Why is it that the kindest among us are so quick to uproot themselves and offer up their hearts to those who do not deserve to be the recipient of such an act..?” 

“I’m the same as you,” the creature claimed, “I’m not perfect; no one is. I’ve killed too, and not just on the battlefield.” His attention peaked, Frederick lifted his head to ask, “What do you mean..?” With a breathless sigh, Henry murmured, “I suppose it’s only fair to tell you; you told me about your mother and brother…” It was a conversation between two fleeting strangers who, having destroyed everything they had built themselves upon, had no reason to keep any secrets back. One of the pair was to die. If the hunter did not kill the vampire, he would surely be put to death, and if the shaken hunter wished to save himself, he would have to exterminate the last vampire and finally cleanse the emaciated town from only one of its many vices.

“My parents never really cared for me much, so I spent a lot of time in the woods as a kid. There was a lady that lived out in the woods by herself that had been basically kicked out of the village. One day, we bumped into each other, and she decided to take me in. She acted like she hated me at first, but then she grew to like me. She used to be very pretty. She had a son that died when he was about seven years old, and when she took me in, I was the same age. She had a scar covering one of her eyes from a man who attacked her before she left the village for exposing him as her son’s father. After that, she didn’t have a way to support herself, so she became a she-wolf. Anyways, all was well and good before a group of men came to the house while I was out, and when I walked in from the front door, I saw her go limp. It… wasn’t a quick death, not at all. Some of them panicked when they saw me, but one of them grabbed me. I was angry and scared… I just snapped. I had never used black magic before, but it just  _ burst _ out of me. They all died in a couple of minutes, and I passed out. When I woke up, my old mom had found me, and she sent me to this place called ‘Plegia’s Reform School for the Magically Inclined.’ That’s where I got my scars. They aren’t too nice over there, but I learned how to control my magic. There was an accident, and I couldn’t feel pain afterwards. I broke out after a while and ran and ran and ran until I bumped into the army, and they let me join.”

Henry was as cold as a winter night, cradled in Frederick’s arms as if he were a stiff corpse. Feeling the vampire’s bones jutting out under his pale skin, Frederick knew the creature was suffering. Despite thinking himself to be an imbecile, the brunette asked, “What will happen if you cannot find blood to drink?” His voice as stagnant as the rigor of the dead, Henry explained, “Blood is our water; without it, our bodies begin to shut down and fall apart. As much as I loathe saying this, even I am slowing down. My eyesight is failing faster than ever. I’ve been sleeping more and more. It has become difficult for me to remember what I have and haven’t read just the day before. I can’t even climb the ladder to reach the upper shelves anymore. Not even full or blood moons seem to help. If it keeps going on like this, I’ll simply sleep forever until I turn into dust. Though, I think I’ll go outside in the daytime before it gets to that point. I miss feeling the warmth of the sunlight and seeing all the animals out and about.” 

The rogue thought returned to antagonize the hunter, urging him to help. If the killer couldn’t kill the last vampire, he had to die in some other way—  _ no. _ Henry was a living creature; he had the right to be alive because the gods deemed it so. His beating heart was proof enough. If becoming a vampire had been the gods’ way of doling out retribution, then the scars on his back were repentance enough. His thin, fragile body was about to break under the pressure of hatred, so who better to call the gods’ game even than a priest? 

Frederick could feel the heavy responsibility of evening the score weighing on his shoulders like the boulder of Atlas. Despite his weak body, Henry turned around to embrace Frederick like a sinner on his deathbed, grappling onto his last salvation. Softly, Frederick heard the albino coo, “So warm…” The vampire had found his sun in the company of a priest, both like ice and fire, unable to exist in the other’s company. Frederick was no longer a hunter, and Henry was no longer a vampire. 

With only a hint of apprehension, Frederick murmured Henry’s name and pulled up the cuff of his sleeve, gently grasping Henry’s hand and leading it to his exposed wrist. Freezing immediately and gulping dryly, Henry pulled back to meet Frederick’s eyes with his hazed own, silently asking the question that weighed on their minds.

_ Are you sure? _

Instead of replying verbally, Frederick lightly pressed a gentle kiss to Henry’s crown before pulling back with a smile, convincing himself and Henry that he understood what his actions could bring about. Turning his attention to the deliciously indigo veins just under the surface of Frederick’s skin, Henry’s jaw began to tighten and tremble with anticipation, saliva pooling in his mouth even as he swallowed to keep back the flood. His heartbeat quickening, his breathing faithfully following, Henry began to shake as he brought Frederick’s hand to his mouth. He could  _ hear _ the loving beat of the man’s heart,  _ feel _ the pulse quicken under his gentle kiss,  _ smell _ Frederick beginning to perspire under the adrenaline inducing scent of spilled vampiric blood,  _ see  _ how the veins were too bloated with blood and water to roll. 

The vampire had to forcibly pull himself back from his grave attraction in order to focus for long enough to reassure, “I promise that it won’t hurt.” He had been waiting for a meal for months; a few more moments wouldn’t kill him, so he had to take it slow. Pressing more gentle kisses to the swath of skin, Henry gradually dampened the skin with numbing saliva, becoming slick after he ran his smooth tongue over the skin, tasting Frederick’s anticipation. After assuring himself that Frederick was indeed unable to feel pain where he had nursed, Henry opened his mouth, slowly exhaling and delivering a shock wave through Frederick’s body as his wrist began to feel like a winter freeze, and he realized how long Henry’s pearly fangs reached, catching the candlelight and glinting like cold silver as he forced himself to hold back despite how desperately he wanted to gorge himself on the priest's body. Frederick could only feel a minuscule prick as the vampire dug one of his fangs into the thick ulnar vein before pulling back as a scarlet flood began to ooze out. His desperate cravings only heightening, the creature gave in. Even as he drank the blood of a lamb, he was trembling like a white lily in the wind. As he nursed the puncture wound, Frederick could see him coming back to life. Once near-blind, he regained his sight. Once weak, he regained his formidable grip. Once cold, he began to give off a nigh unbearable heat as he feasted. A rosy blush adorned his pale face as he became feverish, blood smearing and marring his perfectly carved complexion. 

Though the heady smell of pheromones was entirely absent, the priest began to feel a particularly sinful feeling permeating to his very core. His mind was begging him to quash the horrible feeling on pure instinct alone, but his heart demanded him to indulge. The little vampire was so small and painfully alone;  _ someone _ had to care for him. The priest could be that someone. The two got along so well that their affinity to each other was almost concerning, he found, but Henry appeared to be innocent of any plots. 

Frederick began to feel his upper arm beginning to ache, muscles screaming out for oxygen and dragging him to the realization that his field of vision had decreased significantly. Still, Frederick’s mind focused on the curve of Henry’s spine and how his small frame trembled with every swallow. After swallowing down a particularly large mouthful, a sordid moan slipped from Henry’s scarlet lips and settled in the pit of Frederick’s stomach, shortening his breaths with its heavy presence as if he were being stoned to death, rocks weighing heavily on his chest to repent for his mortal sin. Henry looked up at Frederick with eyes as clear and dark as the night sky, beginning to groan out with a rosy blush, “I’m sorry— I took too much—”

His head in the clouds, Frederick cut Henry off with a kiss and gently pushed him back to lay down. The priest took to worshiping the body before him, casting aside everything he had worked for to reincarnate his beliefs into the lithe creature in his arms. His new god accepted him,  _ welcomed  _ him with arms that held the fell priest close to his heart. He longed to see the true form of his god once more, so he pulled back the infinite folds of cloth that hid the soft,  _ human _ flesh underneath until he exposed the ivory bones of his new temple. His pale flesh burned to the touch, as if the brunette was not pure enough to even hold the little immortal who had slowly tugged him into his baptism made from his own blood. The follower lavished upon the god, pressing kiss upon kiss to the burning flesh and earning cries of pleasure in return. The words given to the ascetic sounded so beautiful that he believed them to resonate so deeply that Naga’s own voice no longer held any bearing. As the little god arched his ivory spine and let out an awe-striking moan, Frederick sold his soul. The wooden bones of the futon beneath them wept and rocked for the loss of the heavens to a creature of hell. The god’s body was melting the mere mortal. The lesson of Icarus, however, meant nothing to Frederick anymore. He was ready to drown if it meant being free to love Henry. One outcry was enough to signal the end of their temporary union, as the brunette buried himself deeply in the albino after feeling his lithe body tighten. Pressing slow kisses to the smaller’s lips, Frederick listened to Henry’s labored breaths. The failed hunter could have sworn that he caught a confession of love slip out of the pale pair of lips, but it faded into silence. Somehow, the two had fallen desperately in love with each other. The two bathed in afterglow until the sun began its descent in the sky. To maintain false appearances, the hunter had to make his way into town so that he could stay at the inn, but he slowed as he descended from the staircase and was faced with the dead bodies of the vampires. The light that Henry had cast upon the dead creatures’ pasts made stepping over the corpses torture. He had wondered which ones had loved Henry like a son and given up their lives to protect him, which one had been the school teacher, which ones had children that they were barred from ever seeing again. 

It hurt.

The sun smoldered scarlet as it sank into the horizon like a ruby drop of blood. It was as if the sun itself was enraged by the slaughter of the misunderstood, or perhaps did it burn in frustration at the priest’s turning act? To finish his last truthful act, the priest dragged the corpses out into the waning sunlight for them to turn to ash and be carried away by the wind, at last casting aside their immortality and reuniting with nature, the cruel yet welcoming mother of all.


	2. Miser Sacerdos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miser Sacerdos: wretched priest
> 
> time to post another Cringe haha poggers (thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to read my self indulgent GarbageTM)

As Frederick returned to the village, he felt innumerable sets of eyes on him that felt as if he had entered another hive. The vampires were gamblers, traffickers, addicts, and dealers who carried blades instead of pointed canines. The tension in the air was suffocating the hunter-priest to the point that he pondered if he would be killed in his sleep. As he carried his blood-sodden hammer through the muddy streets, every person he passed along the way met his eyes in a guarded, nigh threatening gaze. A young man herding his snuffling hogs made the villagers’ intentions clear by warning, “Get out of here as soon as you get your job done, priest.” 

After gruffly handing over a few coins to the innkeeper for what was most assuredly an overpriced scam, Frederick’s attention was attracted to the sharp knife the innkeeper had sheathed on his belt. “You reek of those serpents,” the perspiring man commented, bringing the brunette’s attention away from the dagger. “You’re the hunter-priest they sent, are you not?” Strictly following protocol as gamblers in the background brazenly continued, Frederick replied as he attempted to muster enough strength in his voice so that he would not wake up to that sharp dagger at his neck later that night, “Indeed I am. Are you in need of aid?” 

“Gods, no,” Frederick heard, feeling relief wash over him, “Getting rid of our plague was help enough. They were getting to be a bit of trouble, always wandering here at night.” The man leaned closer over the counter, his forehead gleaming with sweat, his voice sullied with a foul smell as he asked in a quieter voice, “You got all the things, did you?” After hearing the priest answer in the positive, he questioned, “The leader too?” 

“I plan on taking the leader to the capital if he proves to be docile within the next two days. The scholars have been wanting to see a type like him, and he has a steady hand and a calm head,” Frederick lied. “Aye,” the innkeeper agreed, “the thing made my skin crawl, but everyone usually feels quite relaxed around it. It took us a fortnight or two to realize it wasn’t of man; I had given it a job until we knew. Clever bastard it is, the thing loved to turn jokes on us. Even when we tried to kill it, it kept laughing like it was going out of fashion. It wasn’t like any of the other ones. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room, Sir Priest.” 

“If you do not mind,” the priest requested. The man showed a shallow smile that did nothing to sooth Frederick’s worries as he replied, “Anything for a hunter. I’ll at last be able to walk about at night without despairing for my life, you see. My wife will be simply elated to hear that we will be able to live a future without those blasted worms.” The priest simply offered a tight lipped smile as he was finally ushered into his room. 

The woeful murderer stripped himself of his bloody garments, finding a pale strand of hair among the many folds of fabric. Assuming that the strand belonged to the priest’s sinful secret, Frederick was reminded of what the innkeeper had mentioned. He had claimed that they had hunted the little vampire like a white elk on a game hunt. Perhaps they would both be safer sleeping with the vampire cradled in his arms. The failed hunter began to worry for his prey’s life; the vampire was alone and had no safety in the hive like a queen bee trapped within her empty palace, biding her time until she would be consumed by the wasps which killed her colony. He felt the habitual sensation of anxiety flooding every vein in his body, paranoia increasing at every noise. The alertness he felt was what allowed him to rise up as the royal guard, adding gray hairs and sleepless nights to his limitless awards, awards that will never ease his burden or return to him his lost youth. Upon the anxiety weighed guilt like heavy stones, crushing his chest and the heart that had just recently begun to feel. The shadows in his room developed visages and voices, murmuring the secrets of his guilty conscience until the soft voices which he could scarcely hear grew into a deafening roar. 

_ “You have heard, have you not? Our knight is to be executed!”  _

_ “Pray tell, for what?”  _

_ The shadow jeered, “He went to bed with a serpent, he did! Even worse, he refuses to kill it.” _

_ “By the gods,” the other gasped, just as horrified by the knight’s actions as the knight was himself. “He should not just be executed; he should be flogged! _

A cold gust of wind against the back of his neck became a blade, striking at the base of his head like the executioner who would soon be looming over him like death itself. Turning to the water basin, the priest began scrubbing the blood from his body, attempting to rid himself of the grime that had already seeped through his skin and stained his soul. Blood was hidden in every crevice of skin, under every nail, refusing to be washed down the drain and forgotten. 

He claimed the deaths were for the best of civilization, but what in Naga’s divine name was  _ civil _ about genocide? 

His mirror image, that snow-white beauty, forgave him for what he had done, pressed the most tender kisses upon his bloodstained flesh, and mercilessly dragged him from the darkened world of religion into the brightened world of nature. The priest could easily recall the gentle touch of his lips, the welcoming caress of his cheek. Everything about the vampire was ingrained in his unfortunate memory. 

As he laid himself to rest, his heavy conscience weighed the likelihood of his punishments when the perfectly round divot in the flesh of his wrist would inevitably be found. Was he to be granted leeway or eviscerated completely? How could he possibly convince a single member of the royal council of his brash and foolish suggestion? What would his kin, his flesh and blood, think of him? How urgently would he be tossed to the wind, worse off than the creatures he had once killed? Tossing and turning, the miserable priest fell into a fitful rest, his hair soaked and clinging to his forehead. 

The fell priest held his god’s milky white thighs in his grip, his member sheathed in the smaller’s burning body as the god’s visage split in a dazed grin, gripping the throne under him and giggling or moaning when his devout follower struck that spot in him. They were making love in a strange sense of the words; the lover’s mind was muddled by the heavy scents, gazing down on his pale god with loving eyes tracing every curve and tremor in his body while the loved peered up at him with a hungry, predatory gaze. The smaller’s cries grew louder and followed quickly in succession after the other, signaling his end as his lithe body began to tense. His scarred spine arched like the arches that held up the roof of the priest’s old church as the god squeezed his thighs around his lover, letting out a squalid cry and locking his lover in place as he arrived at his climax. He offered words of praise and affection until his lover leaned down to gift his beloved with a kiss when he was suddenly struck with a heavy, burning sensation sinking into his neck. The god’s limbs around him turned to steel, and suddenly, the brunette was powerless to escape as his beloved began to feed upon his blood, digging his teeth into supple flesh. 

The priest woke up in a cold sweat, his hand flying to his neck to check for a phantom wound. It had merely been a dream. The beautifully intoxicating moans that he had heard from the vampire had their roots in the ear piercing screeches of an old whore in the room next door. The skin at the base of his neck burned as if it housed a small flame that was plotting to sap its host of his life. Following the fire under his skin, the priest felt a boulder settle in his stomach and bolted upright to the basin, expelling what little rations he had consumed the day prior, body jolting with every wretch. The stench of putrefaction filled the room as if the priest’s body had died along with his sinful soul, but alas, to his disappointment, the hunter was still very much alive. For but a moment, a rogue thought invaded his mind, whispering into his ear to simply cease being alive; it would have been simple enough to accomplish. The hunter felt as if he was rotting from the inside of his sick heart to the marrow of his bones, a voice urging him to find the highest peak in the wretched town and leap. 

His mindless hands went about preparing himself for the day, not knowing what else to do. While his thoughts wandered, his body began its morning routine, going as far as arriving at the door of the lone vampire without the hunter so much as noticing. Reaching to knock on the door, the hunter paused, questioning why he had brought his hammer if he believed the little vampire would do him no harm. Perhaps a part of him did not yet trust the lithe creature. Perhaps he wanted to maintain the appearance of hating vampires. Perhaps Henry was not the threat that he was wary of. 

Nevertheless, Frederick began rapping his knuckles on the wooden door only to find that it slowly opened way, evidently unlocked. The house inside was dark and quiet. Taking a step into the smothering silence, the hunter felt his heartbeat quicken, adrenaline rushing into his veins as his mind began to run through the possibilities. Had the vampire fled, or had he been abducted? Could there have been another person that had broken in? Was his beloved Henry hurt or had he been killed? Simply imagining the horrendous picture of Henry collapsed on the ground, still and stiff with a wooden stake piercing his heart was enough to force him into a fighting stance, gripping his hammer in his fists and turning around in circles as he called out, “Henry? Are you alright?” 

The hunter heard a noise behind him and whipped around but found nothing. Another noise came from his left, quickly followed by his right. Gritting his teeth, the hunter stood tall and tightened his grip on his hammer as he felt a strange feeling set into his heart. What he felt was rage as he spun around, tracking the noises of who he believed was his beloved’s murderer. For a moment, just long enough to make the hunter hold his breath, there was complete silence in the room before a voice from behind him whispered, “Hello.” The hunter whipped his body around, gasping as if it were his last breath before he recognized the lithe figure before him and relaxed marginally, dropping his hammer as the feeling that had taken him over merely the night before took root in his head once more. “My darling,” the placated killer began. “You had begun to worry me. I feared the worst when I did not hear your answer. Are you alright?” 

The corners of the vampire’s mouth turned up at his new name.  _ Darling,  _ he thought, a warm feeling seeping into his heart.  _ I have never been regarded as something dear. A bastard, however, yes. A blemish upon the Earth. A wretched mistake of nature’s crafting hands. Someone’s darling? Never.  _ Henry took a single step closer to his would-be-killer as he answered, “I haven’t felt this invigorated in years. I feel as if I could give you all the stars in the sky! I must admit I was anxious that you might not have returned. How are you? You look like you have seen better days, my love.” The hunter felt a blush bloom across his cheeks at Henry’s loving reply. During his time in Ylisse, he had received a startling amount of love confessions, especially as they began to approach days that celebrated couples, yet he always refused them. He found it impossible for him to love the young women that approached him, but the occasional cadet or soldier proved too dangerous and not worth the risk. 

However, Frederick would defend the little vampire from every adversary if forced into a corner. His chest burned when he laid his eyes upon the beautiful creature in front of him. His gaze was attracted to the playful glint in his love’s eyes, his soft lips giving way to his ivory grin. He found that he was powerless to pull his eyes away from the way that the vampire’s pale lips curled around his dangerously sharp fangs and took a step towards the godly form. “May I,” he began with a shyly polite tone, “kiss you?” Henry’s beautiful smile grew further before he answered, “Of course, silly!” Henry bounded towards the priest, standing on his toes and wrapping his arms around the priest’s neck as he gently tugged him down to his level. 

Frederick realized how painfully small the vampire was, his waist daintily thin, his arms weightless. His would-be-killer felt an urge rising to the surface; as their lips met, Frederick vowed to himself to keep Henry out of harm's way. The kiss they shared was the very embodiment of innocence, warm and loving like the sun’s rays. Henry began giggling as beautifully as the toll of church bells, and refused to let go of the enamored giant as he hugged his lithe arms around the giant’s neck. The vampire felt his feet being lifted off the ground and found himself being cradled in his beloved’s arms as if he had not been weighed down by the brunette’s guilt-encumbered conscience, kissing him just as easily as if those dangerous teeth did not break his skin just the night before. Softly, he questioned, “Is there something you have your heart set on doing today, my darling?” The small vampire answered, “I want nothing more than to spend this day with you, but my love, do you feel strange? Your face is almost as pale as mine!” 

With a great bout of hesitation, the priest admitted, “My heart—it is in great pain. It is necessary for me to create a plan to keep you safe. I feel that I mustn’t leave you here, for the wolves of this town will capture and harm you in every imaginable way. I will not allow you to be left in this manner; alone is a dangerous thing to be, and it is of no fault but my own.” 

“My darling, you are in no state to ponder about such subjects; what is necessary is  _ sleep. _ ” The hunter knew well that the blessing of sleep would elude him but resolved against compelling his partner in favor of lying with his concerned lover. The mismatched pair formed interlocking segments, a knot that bound them eternally, as they reclined on the futon to share the heat emanating from their bodies. Slowly, the hunter was overtaken by comfort and the relaxing pheromones of his lover and drifted surely. He felt it as it came on and blessed the giver of oblivion. 

He dreamed of fleeing into the forest to exchange his hammer for a wedding band and start anew among the trees; however, to flee was the instinct of a deer shot by the arrow. The wounded deer dragging its fainting limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had pierced it, and to die—was but not a type of the priest. He had a sworn duty to protect the exalt, his dear friend with his life. Born just two years prior, Frederick witnessed the exalt-to-be read his first book—an event that not even his own mother had the gift of seeing. The two were linked, inseparable to the extent that the death of one would surely cause the extinction of the pair. If any creature in the world were to understand the wretch’s predicament, surely, it would be the exalt, would it not? 

The young guard had dutifully and lovingly nursed the exalt’s younger sibling back to the living after she contracted an illness which would quite naturally become a death sentence. He had protected the eldest of the three from an assassin’s arrow by plucking it out of the air and supported her when she broke down, weeping when she learned of her father and mother’s deaths. He had earned his rank as family rather than Royal Guard. 

Could the bond of family withstand the flame of vampiric blood? 

He conjured into life every reaction the exalt could have upon being shown the little vampire he loved so dearly, terrified by some and wishful of others. When he was visited by a frightening vision, he would feel a cool hand caressing his cheek and soft lips kissing his own; the vision would soon fade, and the woeful hunter would relax. Eventually, the hunter was blinded by sweet dreams of his future with his beloved. He imagined their secret wedding among the trees, the songs of love heralded by the birds, celebrating the unition of naturality. Upon slipping a golden band on his lover’s finger, the creature would hold it up in the silver moonlight, ebony eyes devouring every detail with wonder like a curious crow before presenting his husband with a ring of his own: a silver band the color of midnight’s moonlight and complimentary of the eclipse that hugged the creature’s own finger. 

The at-last united pair permanently bonded, being itself wanted the ability to fracture the loving amalgamation they had become, living and breathing as one. 

They would ruin any who attempt division, two snakes coiled together, guarding each flank and biting at all who approach. For even the poor wren, the most diminutive of birds, will fight, her young ones in her nest, against the owl. The pair would be that of legend, among tales of vicious monsters and guardian angels which would frighten some as the fable about the vampire who possesses the priest and inspire others as a heartwarming tale of the hunter who grew to love his prey. 

Yet notoriety closely is followed by infamy, and with it comes danger. If those selected few elect to seek the source of the legend, Henry’s lovely head would be lopped off at the base, rolling across the floor, his body still standing, to gaze blankly at his lover before his headless corpse finally collapsed on its weary self. As he cradled the head, holding it close to his heart, he recognized the silhouette of his father with the murderous ax in his grasp.

The image was enough to jar the hunter from his slumber, and he was greeted by the blissful expression of his beloved, the blush of life still adorning his cheeks. He began to question how erroneous his old ways had been, how sick his soul had been to wish destruction upon the godly being who had lulled his anxious mind to sleep. 

  
  


How long had it been since the knight had enjoyed a warm embrace and the easing luxury of sleep? As the hunter ventured through the town, he decided that it had been too long. His heart warm and his body unusually fluid, he shared a smile with himself, the happiness of being in love flooding his veins. 

Meanwhile, the vampire slinked from his cove to put his beloved through a test, urged on by the scars which would permanently mark his back as a reminder to never trust a soul. A grip tightened around his heart, a sensation which the lone vampire had not felt since he was a young boy breathing in water as the waves of his school’s testing pool overtook him. A sickness came next with a grimace, followed quickly with confusion as the albino questioned why he—one who had been spurned, beat, and hated since he was a babe—had any hope for the priest—the  _ hunter— _ to truly love him, to risk even the smallest piece of his reputation for the sensation of a kind body against his touch-starved flesh. The vampire felt a frown tug at the corners of his lips while a war waged within his skull.  _ Frederick is an honest man _ , one side reconciled while the other insinuated  _ Precisely, too honest to protect me against the exalt. _

Shivering against the biting night gale, the vampire drew his cloak around his body tighter and breathed out a silent prayer as he stepped foot into the town square. Eyes immediately found their mark, skeptically biding their time as they analyzed the cloaked creature. As the small crowd slowly drew in, Henry pushed back his hood and questioned, “Don’t you wish to slaughter me?” He felt their grimy hands pawing, scratching, grappling him, and the vampire calmly allowed his body to be pressed into the dirt. A clamor rose from the crowd, growing louder in volume and intensity until they were silenced by a barked order from a man on a horse who stepped down from the saddle and approached, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. 

His heart wildly pounding in his rib cage like a bird beating its bloody wings against its cage, the vampire licked his lips and resolved that if the worst should happen, he would simply rip their souls from their bodies. The priest’s smooth voice came in like a king’s, demanding the attention of all as he questioned, “Who do you have there, men?” 

“Take a look for yourself,” one grumbled out while slowly releasing his grip on the creature’s head. The men watched in mild awe as the priest sank to his knees on the filthy ground and tugged back the vampire’s black hood to expose a head of pure white hair. “Ah,” the priest noted, “I did not expect to find you here.” Encouraged by the creature’s apparent notoriety, one plagued with addiction questioned, “You’ve ‘eard of ‘m, aye? This  _ beast? _ You know that ‘e can’t be trusted then! Kill ‘m!” The other filthy men chimed in with similar statements, throwing flimsy insults at the lone vampire like the dart games they knew well yet failing to strike their mark entirely. 

Frederick peered down into his beloved’s eyes and recognized the mocking gleam which shined in his black irises.  _ Yes, kill me _ they seemed to tease, yet behind the front laid something more serious: terror lined with a thread of hope. The hunter’s heart softened with the recognition and urged him to reach down to his lover’s face, brush away the soil, and caress his soft cheek while he confessed, “I am afraid that I must refrain.” Henry’s eyes widened, flickering between disbelief, adoration, and overwhelming hope which only fueled the blaze in Frederick’s chest as a tender smile graced his visage. 

“The scholars have been searching high and low for a vampire such as the one before us. He possesses a steady hand and harmless pheromones; I trust him to maintain a calm disposition.” With another brush of his thumb across Henry’s soft cheek, Frederick assured, “I can promise that no harm should befall you at my side. You will not harm anyone, will you?” 

“I will only consider it if they hurt me first, Sir Priest,” Henry answered with a toothy grin before one aspect of their agreement began to set in: the vampire would become an experiment for the second time in his life. He did not wish to suffer through such tribulations even once more in his life; however… if he had the protection of the pontifex, perhaps such torture would be minimal, even worth the pain. Curiosity ever insatiable, Henry found questions slipping from his mouth. “Will they experiment on me? Cut me open and poke around at my innards? Leave scars as mementos which I can gaze at and remember when I turn a century old?” 

“Nay, they merely wish to observe you,” the priest explained, “You will be under my care and protection, and you may trust me when I say that you will live a good life.” The men pinning the vampire to the dirt slowly eased up on him, so the thin creature moved to sit on his knees as he gazed up at Frederick with hopeful eyes, his small hands embraced by his lover’s calloused ones. At the prospect of an attainable happiness, Henry’s voice was twinged with hope while he asked, “Are you sure that I will be accepted?” Weak to his beautiful lover, Frederick assured, “The royal family will accept you, assuredly, and any who do not will be in a world of awakening. The time for change has come, little one.” 

The little vampire himself had already found himself in that world which his beloved spoke of. The thought that someone might truly love him was foreign to Henry, and the thought of being loved took root in his chest and spread its warm branches throughout his body. He found it impossible to believe even as his lover took him against one of his numerous bookshelves. His body trembling from pleasure, he received a peck on the lips from the brunette before he moved to kiss the twin divots which permanently pierced the vampire’s flesh. Holding back his voice proved impossible as the priest pleaded to his god, “My beautiful darling, I will not soon be able to make love to you as freely as I do now, so please release every reservation and allow me to hear your sweet voice.” As he was worshiped, he reached the impossible realization of just how earnestly his lovely priest had devoted himself to his beloved, tilting his head back in an awe striking moan and being rewarded, urged on as only more cries escaped him. Drowning in vulnerability, the god confessed that he loved the mortal, unable to restrain himself from saying those three weak words time and time again in exultation until his lover claimed with a vulnerable voice of his own, “I love you more, my dear Henry.” The vampire invariably reached his end with the name of his priest on his lips, the sordid cry echoing softly through the labyrinth of books and overwhelming the creature with the knowledge that his love was mutual. 

Breathless, he felt fangless lips kissing him; a love that should have been aborted yet was one which burned brighter than any other. After emerging from his shock, he felt the presence of a wetness on his cheeks: tears which his priest was attempting to kiss away as he questioned what could be wrong. The vampire allowed his lover to console him as he laughed in disbelief, “I love you, and you love me! Is this not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, my love?” The smaller lover received a gentle smile in agreement as his priest murmured, “This is indeed so beautiful that everything else in my life pales ashamed in comparison.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll update this again after i take my shower. got 2 get clean u kno? robin and chrom come in next and boy, they are gay and only get gayer as life goes on--just like me. happy late lesbian day, glad i and other lesbians became not invisible for 24 hours. ive also decided that i wont post the 5 billion word long slow burn but instead post a oneshot introspective henry thing when i finish it bc i love him as my own flesh and blood. 
> 
> once again, thanks for reading this. if u like hypmic, i have some Angst for that too. stay safe and healthy *heart emoji*


	3. Conveniens Pastores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conveniens Pastores: meeting the shepherds
> 
> i feel like its worth mentioning that my son ricken develops a bit of a crush on henry but it will always remain one sided. robin and chrom are definitely An Item. anyways, i hope you enjoy some fluff. they actually dont bang in this one. surprising, i know.

When the priest returned to the royal castle, he called for an audience with the high ranking scholars once the sun had set. Curious as to what may have occurred to warrant such a private calling, the scholars’ attention was enamored by the mysteriously large maple box resting upon the communion table. Once Ricken arrived, the priest began to address his small audience. “I must apologize for calling for you all so suddenly, but I believe that you will understand when you hear my request,” the knight explained. The scholars seemed to lean forward, drawn to the mystery like moths to a flame despite their weary faces. Frederick turned to approach the box, causing a small noise to come from it, signaling that there was something quite alive within the lacquered wood. 

“While on my last expedition, I met someone who rather piqued my interest, so yet again I must ask your forgiveness for my suddenness, for I would like to free him as soon as possible. Please, do not be afraid.” Frederick unlatched the box, and out rose his beloved vampire from his confines to stretch his limbs and stand as if he were one of the morning glories which guarded the door of his invaded sanctuary. After his priest offered up his hand, the little god accepted the aid and leapt from his perch on the table to land quietly beside his beloved. 

“This,” Frederick introduced, “is Henry, and I would like for you all to research him alongside me. I understand any apprehension about my request, but I ask that you hear out my proposition and view him as you would anyone else. I have found him to be reliable and worthy of the kingdom’s trust. I will watch over him during the night and while my duties require me to remain indoors, but should I need to be outdoors while the sun is still shining, I will entrust him to another Shepherd should any of you feel the need. While hunting him, I have been exposed to the full extent of his pheromones and have deemed them harmless. All that they are capable of is calming the mind and calling forth fond memories; they cause no detriment and could even be utilized to aid the mentally ill. I also believe that he does not wish to cause harm to any of us, lest we do harm to him first.” 

“How do you intend to prove this? Vampires hunt and kill whenever they feel the desire, do they not?” one of the older, skeptical scholars questioned. Frustrated yet proud that even  _ he  _ was not being taken at his word, the priest unsheathed a knife from his belt and questioned, “Henry, what do you know about the blood of a priest?” Curious as to how his priest intended to convince the men, the vampire answered, “Priest’s blood is highly sought after for its complex taste and its ability to fill vampires with enough life to last even a month without feeling hunger. Much like humanity’s opium, priest’s blood renders vampires both numb and entirely overwhelmed to the point that it creates a state of euphoria. From your scent alone, I can tell that you yourself possess this blood in tandem with the rarest and sweetest type; vampires must throw themselves at you quite often at a chance to taste your blood. Two others in this room possess the same type, but no others have the depth of a priest’s.” 

After being asked to hold out his hands, Henry obeyed and cupped his hands out before him. The scholars watched on in horror as Frederick sliced his palm open with his knife and allowed his blood to drip into the vampire’s palms. Despite his watering mouth, Henry refused to show any sign that he wanted to drink the sacred blood and lick his palms clean. 

“What an indescribable amount of self restraint,” another scholar noted in awe. 

“What if it is simply not hungry?” the previous questioned. “If you observe him more closely,” the priest began, “you will notice that his body is mere skin and bone. He is most assuredly starving, yet he continues to live from the light of the moon alone. I wish for you scholars to merely observe this phenomenon. Henry must not be harmed, and any who go against this will face consequences with no exceptions. He will not be dissected, cut, struck, or chained; he will live in this castle like any other with the respect a living being is owed. Any of you may choose to refuse, but I will continue my research. I will of course ensure the exalt’s approval, so men, do we have an agreement?” 

The little god spied his priest through his snowy lashes, humored as he questioned how the priest would manage with the scholars too terrified to even peer into his tar-black eyes. Upon noticing that the men feared the fanged beast, the youngest of them all shot his hand into the air as he proclaimed, “I volunteer, Sir Frederick!” Henry’s gaze shifted to the boy, causing him to flinch in fear until the priest praised with a gentle smile, “Thank you, Ricken. I know you will be doing a great service to Ylisse and myself.” 

Another scholar interrupted to warn, “Child, I do not believe you know the danger that you are claiming. That  _ creature  _ could easily kill you; it cannot be trusted.” Henry grinned, flaunting his teeth in a subtle mock which caused the younger scholar to pale. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, steeling his spirit before meeting the gaze of his combatant to claim, “If Sir Frederick can find it in himself to trust him, anyone can do the same. I understand fully that Henry is  _ rather  _ frightening, but if we can learn from him and save the lives of our families and even vampires, do you not think this is a worthy risk? From first glance, Henry is not the blood-thirsty beast that we take the average vampire to be—”

“It clearly possesses some ulterior motive; it is intelligent enough to refrain from attacking us. Only the goddess can tell  _ why,” _ the previous interrupted. Henry, a god in his own right, supplied, “I refuse to attack you for the same reason I refuse to consume the very blood pooling in my palms. If I were to partake, Sir Frederick would be guilty of what I hear is a lofty crime in Ylisse. Your high priest would be stripped of his title, flogged, or at the worst executed. I have deemed such an outcome an event I wish to prevent, for I wish to protect this good man with my worthless life. As you men know, the cess of majesty dies not alone.” 

The scholars, even the priest, were shocked by the vampire’s sudden explanation. Having garnered their full attention and shocked them into a gullible haze, the little god explained further, “If any of you have failed to notice the obvious, my existence had caused a bit of a crisis for the stranger who appeared in my study with the blood of my friends on his hammer. He likely began to wonder how many like me he may have come across and killed. I could see that he was capable of realizing his own actions, even after being led to believe something rather contradictory since he was a child. I saw that he is a good man who only has the best intentions in mind. Even after offering to kill myself when he found he was unable to do so himself, he stopped me from stepping into the sun. We sat down and talked, only to realize that we were not so dissimilar. I feel bound to this man, and not even the sun is able to dissuade me. You see, I wish to dedicate my being to Sir Frederick as he has tied himself to the exalt. Any act which could be detrimental to him, I will refrain from. Ylisseans may have no concern regarding me, for Sir Frederick yearns for their wellbeing. As my wishes are bound to his, I will do no harm, for he cannot shape the future if he is not alive to see it.” 

The men regarded the creature before them with wonder, questioning how the beast could present them with such an emotional address. With only a declaration of the creature’s love, he had convinced the men that they had nothing to fear. “Very well,” the eldest concluded, “you have my support. I will supply the funding for this experiment; however, if your pet so much as hisses, I will retract my patronage.” 

As the priest was thanking the old man, a messenger burst into the room, proclaiming that Frederick had been requested by the exalt. The knight seemed to straighten his posture further, telling the messenger that he would be present as soon as possible. Quickly, the knight thanked the men for their time and warned that he intended to see Ricken after his class the next morning. Once the two were alone, Henry curiously asked, cocking his head to the side like a raven, “May I have this blood? It feels wasteful to wash it all away.” Frederick pressed a kiss to Henry’s forehead and insisted, “You need not ask. It is yours for the taking, my darling.” 

  
  


The god could sense his priest’s heart pounding in his chest as he prepared himself to stand before the exalt, so feeling merciful, he flooded the room with a smell similar to lavender and bergamot to ease his beloved; slowly, the priest felt the newly-familiar sensation of safety as his shoulders relaxed and his posture melted away from its rigidity. The knight quickly briefed the vampire before him on common courtesy regarding the exalt before the two met in a kiss and departed from the room to see the exalt. The pair found him drafting papers in his study, his messenger awaiting them at the door. When they were aptly prepared, the messenger announced their arrival and the fated pair entered the room. Once they were before the exalt, the god and his priest knelt before the king. Henry dared to lift his head early and was surprised to see a nostalgic smile upon the king’s face. 

“My dearest friend,” he began in a smooth and confident tone, “I am glad to see your safe return! Up, up now; there is no need for either of you to bow.” The two rose as one, reminding the god of his prophet’s towering height which cast cool shadows upon his skin. The exalt continued in his joyful tone, his sapphire eyes glossing over the newcomer, “I must admit, Frederick, you have piqued my curiosity with your visitor. Who is this fine young man?” 

“My liege, this is Henry, someone I as well as some scholars wish to study. He is a vampire I met while on my expedition who possesses a peaceful soul and a cool temperament; I have no reason to believe that he should desire to harm anyone. Even when I arrived for him, he could not bring himself to fight. He wants the desire for human blood and thrives off the light of the moons and the occasional addition of animal blood when available. His pheromones are very intriguing as well, for they cause no harm or delusion but only remind others of joyful memories. 

“I understand that my studies will be seen with doubt by most and disapproval by others, but I believe that the opportunity Henry provides is worth every moment. Do I have your support in this pursuit, my liege?” The exalt gave a gracious smile and insisted, “But of course! I will always support you in every endeavor.” His azure eyes moved to study Henry for a moment as he questioned, “Is this what you want, Henry?” 

“Indeed it is,” Henry answered without hesitation. “Then you have my full approval, Frederick. Which scholar will be at the head?” 

“Young Ricken will, my liege.” The exalt smiled fondly as he encouraged, “Ah, Ricken. Such a kind boy; you picked well. Henry will be able to sleep while he is attending the academy, then. Speaking of sleep, where will he be staying? In one of the bed chambers, I hope. Will he be near you? I fear that some will…  _ take some time _ to grow accustomed to Henry’s presence.” 

Henry cast his gaze to Frederick with curiosity; he had not considered that question, for he had hoped for the impossibility of sleeping at his lover’s side, free to caress his finely chiseled face and feel the warmth radiating off his sun. Henry’s smiling expression faltered as Frederick explained that he was to stay in the room adjacent to his own, as it had no windows to set fire to his supple flesh. However, the room was not prepared yet, so the little vampire would stay within the priest’s sanctuary for the time being. 

The king seemed pleased to hear the priest’s idea and gave them his approval before standing from his desk smothered in paperwork to ask, “Would you like to join Robin and me for dinner?” Unable to turn down a request from the king, the knight accepted the invitation. The little god was in awe of how genuine the king portrayed himself, his smiles brightening the room with true joy. He began to suspect some inner loneliness running rampant under the king’s flesh as the exalt appeared overjoyed that they had accepted. “Good,” the king almost cheered, “Robin and I would love a chance to become acquainted with you, Henry.” 

As the king led them from his study, he explained with nostalgia evident on his face, “Frederick and I have been good friends since we were born, you see; he has always been so protective that he puts even a mother bear to shame, so you could not be in better hands! I am positive you will get along perfectly with Robin as well. Robin is the best tactician the world has ever created and one of my closest friends. Frederick, my sister, and I found him in a field one day with no memory of who he was besides his first name. He has proved himself to be a good man beyond any doubt, as I am sure that you will do the same. Ah, there he is—Robin!” 

The albino tactician turned his head just as he was locking the door to his own study, a smile gracing his features as he recognized the king. “Hello, Chrom,” he greeted, signaling a scarlet red flag to the vampire. How could a childhood friend still refer to the king as his title, yet a mere newcomer have the pleasure of saying the king’s name? “It’s good to see you back safe, Frederick,” he continued, “and—oh? Who’s this?” Chrom quickly explained, “This fine young man is Henry! Frederick found him on his latest expedition, so from now on, Henry will be staying at the capital here with us.” The vampire flashed a grin which caused the tactician to falter for a moment, having been surprised by the fangs which shone like pearls, but he quickly recovered and greeted Henry in turn. 

Once the four sat at a grand oak table, Chrom’s face twisted in confusion as he questioned, “Please forgive my ignorance, Henry, but do you even eat food? I had not even considered this thought until this very moment!” 

“I can,” he explained, “but the food you all enjoy does rather little for me—almost like eating dessert.” 

As a servant appeared to serve tea, the ever-curious tactician leaned over the table to ask questions, such as what the vampire enjoyed and his origin. When Henry stated that he enjoyed reading, Robin’s smile appeared to grow. After he offered to show Henry the royal library, Chrom asked what Henry did for a living prior to arriving at Ylisstol. “I was a mercenary before I traveled to Ylisse; people here tend to be wary of people like me, so other vampires came to rely on me for protection. Before any of that, I was a mage in the Plegian army.” Robin softly asked, “When did you join?” The god’s dark gaze flicked to the ceiling as he recalled his past from so long ago before answering uncertainly, “I believe I was… twelve or thirteen?” 

“Gods, they had you killing that young?” Henry let out his cherubic giggle that eased his priest’s heart as he countered, “Freddy is practically the same! He had his first kill when he was just a boy. I had done it by accident when I was younger anyways, so it was not something dreadful that scarred me for life. I was a good enough mage that the battalion would simply send me out and everything would be taken care of.” Contrary to any civilian’s reaction to such distressing details, Robin seemed to lean in further, evidently not immune to the little god’s heavy gaze which lured the unsuspecting in like a pitfall, asking, “Where did you learn magic? I assume you are a dark mage?” 

“How did you know? Is it all the gold I wear?” Frederick had neglected to notice how his dearest was dripping in gold: gold rings, a heavy necklace, cuffs, bands sewn into his pants, and even clasps on his belt and heels. He was so occupied taking in the sight before him that he missed one of Robin’s quips, only realizing that he had when the other three burst out in unbecoming laughter. Afterwards, Robin gently urged Henry to continue with his explanation. Still holding back his laughter, Henry explained under a smiling guise, “I suppose I learned how myself; you see, it just happened one day when I was about seven or eight.” 

“Truly? How did it happen?” 

Henry paused for a brief moment as his smile took on a pained edge. “There was a woman who was like a mother to me; she took care of me, and I truly cared about her. When I arrived at her house one day, I opened the door to find her being murdered by several people. With her last breath, she told me to run, and they killed her. I remember feeling cold and angry and seeing red before I blacked out, and when I came to, they were dead. Other people from my village had found me and knew what had happened, my parents among them, so they shipped me off to Plegia’s School for the Magically Inclined, as if that would help. I was admitted with the ability to feel pain and escaped without it—if you consider that a pro rather than a con—and I found that my magic was significantly strengthened. I bumped into the Plegian army while I was running, and they accepted me, gave me food and clothes, and my general practically treated me like his own child. I believe he was beheaded for refusing to follow orders, though even I knew that the orders were wrong.” 

“That school you mentioned,” Robin began, “surely it was not to the north in Spes..?” 

“Ah, you have heard rumors of it then? The rumors are all true. They are rather like war stories; every tale is true for someone.” Robin was silent for a moment before he claimed, “I hope you are aware that we will never allow you to suffer like that again, Henry.” Henry snickered as he commented, “I know; you all seem too nice! I truly believe that I will be happy here, especially if I can be at Frederick’s side.” When Chrom cast a glance towards Frederick, he was dumbfounded for a moment, double taking before he confirmed that what he saw was real. 

Laughing at the discovery, Chrom exclaimed, “Gods, Frederick, I have  _ never  _ seen you  _ blush _ before!” Having been caught, the scarlet glow only burned brighter as Frederick scolded,  _ “My liege!”  _ Henry began giggling as well as he apologized, “I am sorry for embarrassing you, Freddy; it was a slip of the tongue!” Robin joined in on the torture, teasing, “Oh, I was unaware that ‘Freddy’ was even capable of embarrassment.” When a frown began to crease Frederick’s burning face, Henry stood from his seat and squeezed his beloved in a hug as he cooed, “Don’t be like that, Freddy; you know we only tease you because we care about you.” While the laughter at the table turned into a roar, Frederick spat out, “You are all  _ sadists. _ ” 

When the food arrived, the four finally calmed. After taking his first bite of a lamb chop, Robin questioned, “Is there anything you wish to ask us, Henry? I feel as if it is only fair, given how I bombarded you with questions.” Henry hummed in thought, soft and low like an angel singing a hymn, before deciding, “What do you all do? I know that you are the tactician, the exalt is—well, the exalt, and Frederick is the royal knight, but what exactly does that entail?” 

Robin was the one to answer first, explaining, “As the royal tactician, I oversee the workings of all things war, such as what battalion will be deployed where and when, how attacks should be launched and against whom, and such machinations. I am also the tactician for the Shepherds, Chrom’s band of elite warriors.” His eyes gleaming, Henry questioned, “ _ You’re  _ part of the Shepherds? I have heard so many stories about you! Is it true that you set all your ships ablaze in the battle against the Valmese?” Chrom chuckled as he interjected, “It is true.” A grin overtook Henry’s expression before he decided, “We are going to be good friends, Robin.” 

“I already know that to be true, Henry. Like you, I am also a mage and use dark and elemental magic. When I am not planning or in the library, you can typically find me being a thorn in Chrom’s side—”

“Utter nonsense, Robin. Anyhow, I believe it is my turn. As the exalt, I govern Ylisse by approving or striking down laws, making diplomatic visits, sitting in meetings with my advisors, so on and so forth. It can be rather tiresome. My late sister, Emmeryn, was always better at that side than I was. I much prefer breaking out of my office and sparring or going on campaigns with the other Shepherds. At the beginning of every new year, I replace Libra, our bishop, in leading practically the entire country in a religious event. When I have free time, you can also find me being a thorn in Robin’s side and a general nuisance to Frederick, and since our dear Freddy abhors talking about himself, I will do the honor of explaining his innumerable duties myself. 

“He is my personal guard as well as my younger sister’s guard and nanny, so he keeps an eye on us during events to ensure that we do not end up dead or overwhelmed. As one of the highest members of the church, he also takes on special ceremonies, given he is not deployed. When we were younger, Emmeryn had said that Frederick was like a shepherd guiding his flock—the three of us young siblings—and years later, Frederick became the first Shepherd. He recruited the best soldiers we knew and made us what we are now. On top of all of these shenanigans, Frederick also teaches the knight cadets. He gives lectures and leads them in demonstrations. His students are always the cream of the crop, and they come back to their families, safe and sound. He is an amazing cook as well; whenever it is his turn in the mess tent, there is never a scrap of food left! He and Maribelle are the ones to patch up uniforms as well. He is practically every woman’s dream husband! I was with him once when he said hello to a woman and she quite literally fainted because she was so happy! Better yet, when she came to and found that Frederick had taken care of her, she fainted again!” 

“Please do not remind me, my liege…”

Robin interjected, “His father was just complaining to me only last week that Frederick had refused the third proposal with a dowry this month. Just this month! It is insanity! It is the man’s family who is supposed to offer a dowry, not the woman’s and yet he receives  _ so many _ offers. His latest one hailed from the oldest and most prestigious noble line in Ylisse--a family line connected to Chrom’s own. Your father asked me to try and convince you otherwise, Frederick.”

“I do wish he would stop meddling…” A soft voice spoke next, rescuing him from anymore torture regarding his apparent refusal of marriage. “Freddy,” Henry began, “are you perfect? I have yet to notice a single flaw.” 

Out of the fire and into the frying pan. Frederick had the wits to avert his gaze in order to prevent his raging blush from being noticed as he insisted that he was far from perfect. Robin interjected by claiming, “I believe our knight has only three flaws. First, he does not appreciate meat. Even while at war, I could not coerce him into eating a single bite of bear meat. Even quail is dubious in his eyes. Secondly, he is quite the worrywart. I suppose it is what makes him such a good knight, but he worries himself sick about the smallest matters and has to have everything perfect. Third, he works himself ragged and has no sense of self preservation. He turned my hair white from refiguring strategies because he could not stop himself from helping our allies at the first sign of a struggle. I eventually started placing him in the most dangerous positions on the battlefield so that he would take the brunt of the attacks and be too preoccupied to follow his damned motherly instincts.” Chrom seemed appalled by the knowledge, almost accusing, “You did that on  _ purpose? _ ”

“I do everything on purpose, Chrom.” 

“I worried about him, you know; he is my oldest friend.” 

“He has always come out of battle with only minor scratches.”

“I suppose you are right…” Robin seemed to realize something as his gaze shifted back to Frederick. “Speaking of worrying,” he began, “you seem… relaxed, Frederick. I haven’t seen you so calm in my life. Do you mind if I ask why?” Without thinking of the implications, Frederick replied, “Henry is the reason.” The tactician’s eyes widened fractionally, his mouth forming a loose  _ O _ around his surprise. The puzzle pieces had fallen into place, displaying the strange sensation that dripped from Henry’s grin when he gazed upon the gentle giant and the softness that overtook Frederick’s visage when the vampire let loose a laugh. 

Love. 

“It is his pheromones, you see,” Frederick continued to explain. “They ease the mind and help with the recollection of happy memories. After I first came into contact with him, I… could finally sleep,” the knight confessed. Chrom looked upon him with an understanding gaze, relaying with support, “That is good news, my friend. I worry for you, always giving more than your all at every task, every day without end. I am glad that you have been gifted a person who can calm your spirit.” A pause hung in the air, the king pursing his lip before deciding to ask, “Would it be strange to request that you try to show us what he means, Henry..?” The vampire returned the pause with mild surprise; no one had ever willingly subjected themselves to the pheromones of a  _ vampire. _ Nevertheless, Henry gave an assuring smile and replied, “Not strange at all, my liege.” 

Like a waterfall, the scent of lavender and lilacs poured from the god’s slight frame, received first by his loyal priest, followed by the tactician, and lastly the king. The change they experienced was physical as Frederick’s war-torn body softened to reflect the gentle creature the god had fallen in love with. The tactician’s gaze lost its calculating edge and was replaced with a tender interest. The king’s golden veneer melted away, exposing the melancholy beneath yet warping it with happiness and nostalgia. Frederick was the first to break the silence as he gently pondered, “What are you thinking, my liege?” The king’s smile only grew as he replied, “Exploring the garden as children with you and my sisters.” 

“I remembered the very same,” Frederick added. The group eased into a comfortable silence, smiles warming their expressions. After a few moments, Chrom turned to his trusted tactician and asked, “What about you, Robin?” The gaze the king gave his vassal held a familiar weakness, the very same which Henry saw in the eyes of his beloved. As a grin tugged at the corners of his lips, the god giggled to himself and reasoned  _ birds of a feather flock together. _ If the king were to stumble upon his knight’s act of sacrilege, they would more than likely be safe from harm. 

“I remembered waking up to find you, Frederick, and Lissa staring down at me,” Robin answered. Another beat of silence passed before Robin asked, “Are you affected at all, Henry?” The question made Henry pause in mild surprise; he had never been asked such a question, nor had he ever stopped to consider the answer himself. Cocking his head to the side, the vampire began, “I do not believe so… but perhaps. I am rather an unusually joyful person, you see, but I rarely reminisce; ergo, I do not know. However, I do know that I affect animals and vampires but not Risen.” 

The king and his advisor met gazes before the exalt nodded and turned to the vampire, questioning, “You said you can fight very well, did you not, Henry..?” After receiving a nod, Chrom continued, “Would you like to join the Shepherds? I am absolutely certain that we could use a soldier like you, and you may follow Frederick on campaigns and help other soldiers with your gift. If citizens were to hear that you became a member of the Shepherds, they would trust you infinitely more than their prejudice has led them to believe.” 

The god’s interest was piqued at the prospect of killing, of doling out his pain and anger without punishment and the ability to protect his beloved mortal in battle; however, his heart sank with the realization that he likely would remain ostracized. There was no hope for a creature damned from the light, banished from seeing the sun rise and set for all eternity. “I do not know if I would be of much use to you,” Henry explained, “I can only battle under the stars and travel in the darkness.” 

“How did Frederick take you to Ylisstol then?” 

“I slept in his weapons chest.” 

“I could have the carpenters make you a much more comfortable one, and we could practically do the same. Risen tend to attack once night falls, so you would be of great value to us, Henry, I assure you.” With only a beat of hesitation, Henry agreed. 

  
  


After dinner when the pair was walking back to Frederick’s room, a man who the priest greeted as “father” approached them. At his peak, the man would likely have been the same towering height of his son, but worn down by age, the creator of the god’s entire world was significantly shortened. His body was war-torn yet softened from retirement, his hair a peppered gray. His brows were furrowed, his eyes narrowed, rage barely contained. Without so much as a hello, the man spat, “It is true, then? You welcomed a wolf into the very same flock of sheep you vowed to protect? Have you  _ forgotten _ that it was a vampire that murdered my wife and child?” 

Frederick’s unflinching resolve hinted that he was not unused to such beratement, his voice steady as he replied, “I have not forgotten; I was the one who found them brutally murdered before me. However, Father—” 

“Do not call me your father; you are no child of mine. You have done nothing but disappoint. You cannot even do me the simple pleasure of continuing the family line! You flee from marriage as if running from death itself! Why do you not marry? Is there someone you already love, perhaps the late Queen Emmeryn?” When Frederick refused, the man demanded, “Then  _ who?! _ ” The silence that followed the question was deafening. 

“I should have known,” the man began in a wavering voice, “that I was raising a damned  _ homosexual… _ ” Frederick’s silence was confirmation enough that he had learned the truth. “I hope that you soon die a death so honorable that no one will suspect that you belong in the deepest circle of hell. At least pretend to uphold the family name and marry the woman of your latest proposal. Think of what your mother wants; you are destroying her.” The man paused in his assault to glare into Frederick’s eyes, looking for any sign of compliance as he insisted, “You will marry her. I will visit her father tomorrow and tell him how happy I am to accept his offer. Do you understand?” Frederick answered sternly, “I will do no such thing.” The man’s face hardened in anger, seething as he offered through his teeth, “I will allow you to try again. You will marry that woman or I will disown you, never to see your sisters again.” 

“I will not.” 

The man drew his hand back to slap Frederick when Henry stood between them and grabbed the man’s wrist in an iron grip, squeezing tighter than a snake when killing its prey.  _ “Leave him be,” _ the god commanded as if punishing Cain. Appalled, the man questioned, “Have you no control over your mutt? Tell him to heel!” 

“Henry,” Frederick warned, his filial piety still deeply ingrained in his very soul, “remember what the scholars agreed to.” After opening his hauntingly dark eyes and taking in the fear on the man’s face, the creature almost growled, “Do not try my patience again, for I will not be so merciful next time,” before releasing the man to flinch back, receding quickly before the vampire could lash out again.  _ “Monster,” _ he exclaimed.  _ “You’re a damned beast!”  _ The beast’s expression was quick to change to a grin, a giggle bubbling up as he taunted, “Do not wander alone after sunset; I’d hate to think of how distraught Frederick would be if he found me with your corpse one night!” 

_ “Henry,” _ the priest chastised before his beloved turned on him with that radiant smile which set his heart alight. “I was only  _ teasing _ ,” the little lover assured before continuing in a softer voice, “I would never do anything that would hurt you, my darling. I only wanted your safety; surely you understand..?” A faint smile of his own forced its place onto the priest’s expression, his tender side dragged out of him at his lover’s slight pout. The giant gently brushed his fingers through Henry’s hair as he murmured, “Of course, my love.” 

Henry did not need any coaxing to be led into Frederick’s bedroom. Upon seeing the room for the very first time, Henry took in every detail: the seals of Naga, the vials of holy tears, a small bookshelf, a medium sized painting of his family from years prior when the mother and brother still had air within their breasts, a small row of potted herbs growing at the window, a sewing kit laying open on his desk, a family crest emblazoned on a ceremonial shield. With a grin, Henry decided, “This is very  _ you, _ Frederick.” 

“Is it? Does it please you?” Frederick asked as he took Henry’s hands in his own. Henry squeezed back, tugging his priest closer for a kiss as he answered, “Considering that I love you rather substantially, I cannot find a single aspect I dislike.” 

Earning a smile and a kiss from his priest, the god wrapped one arm around Frederick’s strong waist while he caressed the priest’s cheek, murmuring, “You are mine, my beloved, all mine… I will not share you with anyone; I will be the only one to kiss your lips, to feel your body on mine, to hear you say ‘I love you.’ You will stay with me, won’t you..?” Henry’s heart was hammering in his chest as he gazed up at his lover, waiting for his reply and watching for any sign of perjury. He was gifted a kiss before his priest promised, “I will be yours, at your side until the end of our days, Henry. I swear on my very soul that I will always shield you from any harm. Judging from the events during dinner, you have taken the place of my most cherished memory.” Henry’s eyes took on a surprised gleam as he questioned, “Truly? Then tonight, you thought of  _ me _ instead of your memory in the garden?” The smile Frederick showed Henry was so bursting with love that the spurned and forgotten beast was struck dumb once more with the realization that he was precious to another. “I did,” Frederick murmured, “I remembered waking up with you hugged against my heart, sleeping away like an angel.” The heart of the beast ached as if being crushed, compelling him to confess, “I love you. I love you, Frederick; I do not know how else to express how dear you are to me besides confessing like a sinner on his deathbed. I love you, my dear, sweet—” Interrupted by a kiss, Henry’s confession was cut short, and he allowed himself to melt into Frederick.

When the clock signaled the start of a new day, Henry began slowly stroking his knight’s temple as he slowly drifted to sleep, comforted by the mere presence of the god. Once he at last succumbed to his dreams, Henry pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, whispering, “Goodnight, my sweet priest…” With a grin, Henry murmured to himself, “I will have to change my sleep schedule so I can see you more, won’t I..?” As he hummed a lullaby, Henry settled into bed. 

Before dawn, the priest awoke to pull the curtains closed, hiding his beloved from the view of the sun lest it become enraged and seize the dark creature from him. He found that his body moved smoother, more graceful from the sleep he had taken at Henry’s side. After changing clothes, the priest bestowed a kiss onto the sleeping beauty and departed for the knight academy where he instructed the stern faced future of the kingdom. Stahl, his substitute, had left a letter for him regarding the events of three days prior in which he explained that the cadets had surpassed his expectations yet again and that a group of students had been attacked by Risen but fended them off without a scratch. The concern of the rise of Risen attacks combated with his relief that the students had been able to defend themselves so well. The cadets would soon be deployed on their first mission in approximately a month’s time, so it was paramount that they learn to defend themselves or else their teacher would find himself giving a speech at their funeral. 

To his disappointment, none of them were able to land a single blow on him when sparring one on one nor when sparring against the class as a whole. One strike was all he wanted.  _ One _ mere  _ tap _ to prove that the students stood a chance on the battlefield. Instead, he was left with the dread a mother bird feels when her bold chicks cannot fly. 

His students left after being dismissed, hands bruised and bodies sore from intense demonstrations. Ricken was waiting outside, his bag of books clutched in his slender arms. Politely and with a timid smile, the young mage greeted the knight and followed him to his room where the god lay dormant. When Frederick opened the door, Ricken was caught off guard by the creature laying in the bed, white linens cradling him like a silken king. As he approached the creature, Ricken only became more enamored by each new sight. His eyelashes were pure white, his lips a soft peach, his hair the brightest ivory he had ever seen. Henry was the most beautiful creature his eyes ever had the blessing of seeing—more breathtaking than sculptures of the goddess, than the late queen, than the view from the top of a mountain. However, as Henry laid on his side, every curve of his slight frame jutting out, the priest gently shook his shoulder to wake him, softly calling out, “Henry, Ricken is here.” 

His pitch black eyes opened. The beast was awakened, and fear flooded Ricken’s veins as the vampire’s bleary eyes focused on his own. As the creature stretched his long limbs like a panther waking from a nap, he lazily greeted, “Morning…” The young mage stood frozen, paralyzed by fear as he imagined the pain of being slain by those pointed ivory fangs. After a moment of complete silence, Henry teased, “Go on, I don’t bite.” 

“Oh,” Ricken stuttered, “I, um—sorry for waking you, Mr. Henry; I just, uh, I just need to ask a few measurements and take some questions—er, take a few measurements and ask some questions.” Ricken exploded in a blush, having overtaken his ill pallor and won the war of the teen’s emotions. His ears burned upon hearing the creature’s smooth and sleep-sodden laugh. “Go on, then,” Henry urged, “there’s no need to be nervous. I would never hurt you with Sir Frederick around.” When Ricken flinched back, the knight at his side sighed in disappointment, murmuring, “Already up to your teasing again?” 

“Sorry,” Henry chuckled, “I would never hurt you. You’re too small, not enough blood, you know?”

“Goodness, Henry,” the priest chastised tiredly. The creature evidently had a wicked bone and a penchant for humor as he laughed at the result of his torment, finally giving up the chase as he held up his hands innocently, insisting, “Fine, I’ll stop. I do not hurt others unless they hurt me first, Ricken, and I doubt that you will vex me in the slightest. You will see; I may be a trickster and rather chaotic, but I am docile enough that even the great Sir Frederick the Weary can bring himself to trust me.” Hearing his name come out of that fanged yet beautiful mouth felt…  _ strange _ to Ricken. The creature was a thorned, white rose, beautifully rare yet gifted dangerous machinations by nature herself. 

As the mage cadet took out his equipment, Frederick watched Henry observe Ricken like a cat watching a mouse go about hiding its food, reasoning that the poor mage would likely become Henry’s plaything. He knew Henry meant no ill intent by his teasing, yet nevertheless, Frederick noted that he would have to keep his beloved entertained with more than just access to the royal library. He resolved that after nightfall, he would have to take Henry out to explore and satiate that mischievous spirit which so easily took hold of the vampire. Perhaps joining the Shepherds would help as well.

As Ricken began taking measurements of his vitals, Henry began asking the teen how his day had gone and what he did in class. He seemed appalled to learn that the mage cadets never learned dark magic and offered to teach Ricken an assortment of his own spells. Even with Henry’s teasing, the two appeared to pair surprisingly well. The younger mage seemed to forget his previous fear and embarrassment in lieu of discussing magic with a passion and fervor that exceeded Frederick’s understanding, yet he was pleased to see the change in Ricken’s demeanor nonetheless. 

Henry then turned his attention to the knight and questioned with a teasing tone, “How were your little cadets, Sir Frederick?” Thinking back, Frederick felt his jaw tense and the beginnings of a headache setting in as he replied, “They were at their typical performance. I do not believe they have realized how close their first mission is, no matter how many times I remind them.” Henry leaned in at the implication of violence, his attention snagged. Ricken recalled, “Oh, I had forgotten that your cadets get missions. The class above me is supposed to help with recovery, but my class has only been assigned to handle the overflow--which I doubt there will be any. I assume you’ll be stationed here in Ylisstol?” 

“Yes, we are stationed to defend the castle and surrounding townsfolk from a rumored band of dark mages. There are only a handful of mages, but they have the capability to raise a small army of Risen.” Henry cocked his head with a grin as he questioned, “You’re leaving mages capable of raising the dead to a class of fledglings? They could cause a fine number of casualties, you know.” Seeing the unconcerned expression on Frederick’s face, Henry concluded, “Oh,  _ you’re _ handling them? Knowing you, you’d have help watch over the students then?” 

“I plan on having three other Shepherds join them,” Frederick answered simply before both he and Henry seemed to arrive upon the same idea. Just as Henry asked if he could accompany them, Frederick resolved, “You may join us as well.” As Henry rejoiced at the prospect of wrecking havoc, his grin wide and shining, a knock pounded on the door. “Come in,” Frederick called out without realizing. The door opened and a servant informed, “The room you asked for has been prepared, Sir Fred--” Her eyes froze when they settled on Henry’s ivory fangs. Without taking her eyes off of him, she asked with a wavering voice, “Should I… fetch help, Sir..?” 

Upon realizing his mistake of allowing her to see Henry, Frederick stood from his seat on his bed and took a few cautious steps towards her, assuring, “You must pardon me for my lack of explanation; this is Henry, a guest of the scholars and myself. With the exalt’s permission, we plan to study him for medical purposes and in regards to how we may help other vampires. You see, he does not drink blood; he will not harm you, I give you my word.” She looked uneasy but nevertheless accepted the knight’s explanation, deciding, “If you say so, sir… I’ll come by later to wash your bedsheets.” She left as if fleeing death itself, shutting the door behind her. The priest turned back to his idol and grieved, “Henry, I must apologize--” 

“It is no  _ travesty _ ,” Henry began, “I was waiting for something like this to happen. Everyone has been so kind to me as of late; it was beginning to throw me off. Besides, when we first met, you tried to smash my head in with your hammer, and now I can say that I’ve slept in your bed! Everyone just has to take a while to grow accustomed to me, then I’ll be no more frightening than a dog on a leash.” Ricken handed Henry a thermometer, and while the talkative vampire had to keep his mouth shut, Ricken shifted his attention to Frederick, noticing how Henry kept his curious eyes on him as they talked about the Shepherds. 

  
  


Frederick found himself explaining something similar to his students as he briefed them in greater detail regarding their approaching mission about two weeks later. After going over strategy and explaining when they should be prepared for an attack, one of the cadets raised her hand and questioned if they would be receiving any assistance and from who. Frederick then explained, “The Class A mage cadets will be providing medical attention should any of you be injured. In combat, there will be a total of four Shepherds to help thin their numbers and support you cadets. Including myself, support will come from Libra, Muriel, and Stahl. Should night have fallen by the time the battle begins, a fifth Shepherd named Henry will be joining us. He is a new recruit who hails from Plegia and practices dark magic. You can trust him with your life; I have already entrusted him with mine. While we can assure that not a single one of you will meet your end on this mission, we cannot guarantee that you will all return unscathed. Pay mind that these enemies are fighting to kill. We suspect that the overwhelming majority will be Risen, so your enemies will fight with no self regard or sense of pain; they will allow themselves to be torn apart if it means landing a single strike on their enemy. You must kill them before they kill you.” 

As he finished, a messenger entered the training room and relayed, “Sir Frederick, Sir Gaius’ scouts have reason to believe the Plegian mages will attack earlier than expected, perhaps a week earlier at most! He will send further updates as the situation advances!” After thanking and excusing the messenger, Frederick explained, “You all heard what he said. We will push all of our plans up by a week to be prepared. The other Shepherds will come by a week early and begin weapons class breakdowns, meaning Libra will lead those who wield axes, Stahl will lead those with swords, Muriel will lead any who also specialize in archery, and those using spears and lances will remain with me. Henry will only be able to join us in battle. He will be wearing clothes issued by the church, so you will all easily spot him on the battlefield. Any questions?” 

  
  


The cadets were still far from even glancing a blow on him. 

  
  


Henry was fitted for a uniform in all white save for slate trousers. With his pillowing sleeves and billowing cloak, he appeared to have the form of an angel. He wore the uniform in his own sleek yet whimsical manner, the light shirt cascading down from where it was tucked into his tight midline, golden jewelry adorning every limb and extremity. 

Frederick had snuck the little vampire into his bed many a time throughout the week, but he had to be replaced by sunrise, else the sun and curious eyes may burn the pair of lovers. Sleep and comfort came easily to Frederick with the person he held dear at his side. A calmness would overtake him as they shared lazy kisses and sweet whispers declaring their immortal love. On occasion, they would confess things to each other: things that they knew, feared, or dreamed about. Once, as Henry listened to the heartbeat of the sun, the star wondered aloud, “I wonder what Chrom would do, should he find us like this…” 

“I suspect he will do nothing,” Henry assured, feeling Frederick’s confused gaze on him before continuing, “His gaze always holds Robin close, and his eyes practically glow when he has the joy of watching him, just as yours do when you watch me. You two are birds of a feather.” 

Another night, Henry sensed that something was distressing his protector even with his blinded eyes and questioned what was wrong. The teacher explained, “I am not sure if the class of this year is prepared for battle. Battle changes my students, and I do not know if they are skilled enough to not be scarred by the brutality of it all… They are still mere children with weapons. A friend of theirs could be injured, they themselves could be injured, and they may never live the same because of it.” Henry lifted his head from his nest on his priest’s chest and peered at him through nearly-closed eyes; he had taken notice of how Frederick averted his gaze out of guilt when he looked at the giant with his hazed eyes. 

“They are your students, Frederick. You may be more aware of their capabilities than anyone, but it is always the first attempt at flight that scares the mother bird most. You must let them test their wings, and we will be there to catch them should they fall. They will be safe under our protection, I promise you, and should any of them walk into harm, the medics will be at their side within a heartbeat. You may let them go, just for this moment to prove themselves, my darling. I will protect your dear children with my life.” 

Frederick cupped his hand against his beloved’s cheek, brushing his thumb across Henry’s smooth skin as he murmured, “Very well… You always know what to say to mend my very soul, my love. I must give you blood before the battle… Should I let you now?” Having been touched by the offer and gentle hand, the vampire held his finger to Frederick’s lips and assured, “Do not worry about me. I am saving energy for battle, and we do not want to skew Ricken’s data on me anyhow. We must wait until the next full moon. Then I will be able to behold your handsome visage again.”

One night after Ricken had left, Frederick entered Henry’s sanctuary with a proposition. Trusting his partner, Henry stood from his perch on his bed frame and took Frederick’s offered arm, following him and spouting guesses as to what the surprise was. As he followed Frederick’s lead, Henry’s ears twitched to hear children laughing and cheering, the sound of flames, paper and cloth flapping in the night breeze, and… sizzling food..? He could smell it then: meat, spices, cakes, and numerous other scents which he could not place. A crackling sound shot past his ear as a young girl raced past him, cheering and giggling as she shouted to her parents to look at her sparkler. Within minutes, the rumbling murmur of the crowd swallowed them whole. 

Confused as a child being asked to explain the tides, Henry asked with curiosity, “What is this? Surely town is not like this every night?” He felt Frederick’s large gloved hand settle on his own as he explained with a smiling inflection, “It is the Founding Day Festival. Children have the next day off from school, and all of the usual morning events are shifted back by three hours the next morning. I thought it might interest you, and I must apologize for keeping you inside for so long; I have not been a good host to you.” 

The sentiment gave the spurned creature pause. In all of his years, he had never attended a festival, even as a child. For Plegia’s own founding day, Henry remembered staying up late as a child, as he had heard the other children whispering to each other that their dear parents were taking them to the festival held at the closest town as if it was some great secret they did not want the forgotten and hated runt to hear. 

But he did. He assumed his parents would do the same despite their hatred for their little boy, but his father was collapsed in the living room, snoring with alcohol heavy on his breath. When his mother took notice of how he stood peeking at her from around the door frame a safe distance away, she did not so much as look at him as she slammed the potato she was peeling into the bucket of water and incredulously asked, “What do you expect me to do? Take  _ you _ to the festival?” 

Nothing left Henry’s throat. “You don’t deserve to go. No one’ll miss you anyhow.” Not knowing what to do with himself, he continued to stand and watch until she snatched up the bucket as if to threaten him and screamed, _ “Stop looking at me!” _ Her throat was straining, her veins throbbing with the effort. When the filthy boy did not so much as flinch, the mother threw the bucket, water scattering everywhere, yet Henry still did not move. They heard a groan from the living room which sent Henry into resigned terror. 

He looked down as the water touched his dirty feet as if attempting to console him before the bruises on his tiny body would multiply, sighing with a wry smile as he accepted his fate. His father appeared behind him as his mother screamed more curses, throwing them at him like blunt daggers. Once his father yelled at the little boy as well, his mother stopped and began peeling another potato without washing off the dirt. His small body was thrown to the floor, his shirt soaking up the water and inspiring a wry laugh in him. 

At least he was good for something. 

He never hoped to go to a festival ever again. 

The little boy heard someone say his name with a concerned tone, something he was shocked to hear. “Is everything alright, Henry? We can go back if you wish.” The little boy felt a strange pain in his chest as he confessed, “I’ve never been to a festival before.” The priest’s gentle grasp on his smaller hand tightened slightly as he resolved, “Then this is your first, and I swear on my honor as a knight that you will enjoy your time. I will engrave your time with me in your memory. Would you like for me to describe the scene to you?” A genuine smile began to take root as Henry was pulled back to the present and answered, “I would be very happy if you did.” 

Henry lovingly listened to Frederick’s smooth voice as he described their surroundings in great detail from the colorful food stalls to the lanterns strung up and designed by schoolchildren from first years to twelfth years and even art students. The street vendors were comprised of common cooks and even royal chefs, making up a wide range of foods from across the world save for Plegia. Entertainers filled town square, spitting fire, presenting beautiful magic tricks, and building human towers. Musicians and actors in grand costumes took the stage another block down, filling the stage with their voices and instruments as they acted out the founding of Ylisse. Even the monks participated in the festivities and could be seen giving away toys to the children. To those in need, they also gave a blanket and food vouchers to buy a meal. Among them, Frederick pointed out Libra, the highest bishop of the church, with a sniffling child hugging his left leg. They sat watching the crowd until the child shouted out and his mother emerged from the crowd to swoop him up into her arms, kissing his forehead before thanking Libra, telling the boy to do the same. 

Henry’s chest ached when Frederick presented him with food he had always heard of but never had. Cakes, meat, caramel apples, too many things to count. As Frederick guided him outside of the city and into the quiet woods, Henry realized that he had never been loved by anyone or anything as much as he was loved by Frederick. 

  
The pair stopped once they reached a clearing with a view of the stars and nearly full moon where they sat on the ground and exchanged kisses and whispered confessions. As Henry was catching his breath, Frederick went on to explain that he may want to see the last part of the festival, so after a few more kisses, Henry sat leaning against Frederick’s side while he forced his foggy gaze to clear with great effort. As fireflies lazily buzzed around them, a light shot into the sky like a spell and burst with a loud  _ pop _ , shattering yellow light upon cheering spectators and their surroundings. Henry had never seen fireworks either, and they were more beautiful than he had ever imagined. All different colors of light exploded into the starry sky, leaving him in so much awe that all the god could do was grin and watch the man-made stars. Frederick eventually shifted his gaze from the sky to his world, enamored by the amazement reflected in his glassy eyes. The fireworks paled in comparison to Henry’s beauty. 


	4. Evectio Angeli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evectio Angeli: flight of an angel
> 
> we get to see The Boys In Action (there is a battle scene)

The war horn sounded and awoke the cadets from their slumber in the barracks as their teacher rushed to the stables to retrieve his steed, a creature clad in white following him like a shadow. They returned with great speed, the white figure seated in front with his hood tugged to hide his face from the meanger light from the setting sun. After the sun finally set, the mage cadets cast balls of fire into the sky to illuminate their surroundings, the light of the fire reflecting a vibrant red from the gathering Risen’s eyes. Henry lowered his hood and felt Frederick press a tender kiss behind the shell of his ear as he pleaded, “Come back safe to me, my love,” before turning to address his students one last time in an attempt to rouse them before their rude awakening to the horrors of war. 

“ _ Cadets! _ The creatures you see before you comprise the first real test of your training! Take advantage of every skill you have learned and use them as you fight for your life, the lives of your comrades, and honor! The Shepherds I have called here today will protect you with their very lives, but know that you cannot allow any battle to be up to chance! These horrid creatures are a true threat, and they are awoken from their graves for the sole purpose of fighting to the death! Now, steel yourselves, and may the gods be watching over you all!  _ Advance!” _ The cadets yelled out the academy cheer and advanced like a flood, led by the Shepherds. Frederick helped Henry down from the saddle and heard him tease, “Make sure to watch me, my dear priest. I want you to see me for the monster I was birthed to be.” Henry turned and sprinted towards the hoards of Risen quicker than any human capabilities and waited for them to gather closer around him. While the other Shepherds each led divisions of cadets, Henry was a beast unshackled from his bondage, free to whittle down the Risen into manageable numbers for the cadets in all the bloodiest manners possible. Whenever a rotten body would burst like the fireworks he had seen with his beloved, Henry let out a maniacal laugh like a disobedient child torturing his toys. He flung himself from victim to victim, thinning the crowd as much as he was able as Frederick sought out the mages who had awakened the beasts. Having spotted one, he urged his horse after it, beginning to swing his giant hammer to gain momentum until the horse surged past the mage, and in the chaos, Frederick drove his hammer into the mage’s skull, smashing the bone which protected the mage’s very soul to pieces. Three more enemy mages were left. 

Henry heard a pained scream and turned his head towards the sound just as a cadet fell to a large Risen. The squad had broken formation and was at risk of putting themselves in serious danger, so Henry sprinted to their aid, immediately killing the giant Risen with a fire spell which burned off its flesh. When Henry turned back to the cadets to assess the damage, he saw that one was on the ground, sobbing over a badly slashed thigh as his friend guarded him from the monster before them. “S-Stay away, beast!” The cadet yelled desperately, brandishing his sword as a threat. “Stop wasting your time on me,” Henry informed as he began giving off his pheromones, “or your friend will die. His femoral artery is as nonexistent as your wits. Get a friend to help drag him to a medic; we don’t have any t—”

A Risen released a screech before them, and red eyes gathered behind him, glaring and snarling at them with fervent rage. The vampire held out his arms to draw the attention of the Risen to his bloodstained self and to guard the children behind him, commanding, “I will protect you, so find a medic,  _ quickly!” _

_ “Why?!”  _ the cadet begged. “Why are you helping us?! You are a vampire!” The red eyes in the darkness locked onto Henry’s pale form and began to charge as Henry explained, “Sir Frederick’s wishes are my own! He desires your safety above all else, so I will protect you all with my life! Now,  _ go! _ I am begging you to go!” The cadets which Henry guarded watched as the beast turned back to the Risen, feeling the ground beginning to tremble as Henry removed a large tome from his satchel, brandishing it as if it were a holy blade. The book began to levitate a foot above the vampire’s hand as with great effort, the Shepherd lifted his free arm to the moon and muttered a spell. One hundred black hands shot out from the earth and brushed against the stars before the Shepherd lowered his hand, causing the black appendages to plummet back to the ground with so much force that the charging Risen were crushed without hope of survival. The scene reflected in the eyes of the awe-stricken cadets as they watched Henry’s beautiful form silhouetted by the pale moon and the carnage which he created. The hands demolished the charging Risen and thinned out the rest of the herd so that Henry could turn back and tend to the dying cadet. Tearing off a strip of the cadet’s uniform, the Shepherd tightly tied it above the bleeding wound, softly hushing the wounded as he groaned in pain. He gathered the cadet’s pale body in his blood-soaked arms, much to his friend’s surprise, and carried him to the rear where the healers laid waiting. The friend followed, concerned yet placated by the heavenly scent of lavender and bergamot as the strange vampire stole away his friend. “Are you going to eat him?” 

The cadet’s question did not give Henry the slightest pause as he continued rushing to the rear, pushing past the line of mages illuminating the battle field as he answered, “Sir Frederick wants him to return to his family alive, so no, I am not. Not every vampire is a rabid beast urged on only by hunger and lust, like how not every spider is poisonous.” 

“Yes,” the cadet reconciled, “but we still kill every spider we see just to be safe.” 

“Ah,” Henry laughed, “but I am very fond of spiders, except the bird-eating kind. Those, I kill.” Behind the front lines, Henry became surrounded by the mage cadets holding healing staffs as if they were the word of Naga herself. The Shepherd set the boy on the ground and used his lap to cradle the boy’s head, stroking the sweat-soaked hair away from his unfocused eyes. “You’ll be alright now,” Henry gently informed, “the medics are here to help you.” Delirious from the blood loss, the boy gazed up at the white clad Shepherd and pushed a question out of his fumbling mouth: “Are you an angel?” Henry laughed, and the bleeding boy was convinced that he was heaven sent. “I am anything but,” Henry replied before asking his friend how the cadet had sustained such an injury. The friend cast his gaze to the ground before confessing, “There was that giant Risen you saw… It charged at me, I froze up, and Lukas pushed me out of the way. It… it hurt him instead.” Henry hummed softly as he looked back down at the injured cadet, stroking his bleary face as he informed, “Sir Frederick will chastise you both. Selflessness is oftentimes reckless and commonly leads to more suffering than the initial act hoped to prevent. He will lecture you about breaking formation, about allowing fear to overcome you… but you must know that he will also be proud. He cares deeply about his students; I know this for a fact. He has been worrying since my arrival that something like this incident would happen. He merely wants you all to return to your families, learn happiness, and have families of your own. He longs for the day one of you beats him in combat so that he knows he is leaving the future in good hands. Sir Frederick is the one who I hold dearest to my heart. Like I explained before, his wishes are my own. I will do anything to ensure his happiness. I am to him as he is to the exalt. Now, stay calm and rest, young one.” As Henry calmed and tended to the wounded, the friend observed the gentle creature in awe of his beauty and calm nature despite the carnage around him. He was no stranger to war or suffering. A realization then dawned upon him as he watched the white and red clad beauty cradle the head of the cadet like a mother lovingly holding her baby.

“You are the new Shepherd, are you not?” Henry did not lift his gaze from the injured cadet as he smoothly replied, “I am. I thought Sir Frederick told you all about me.” 

“He did,” the cadet corrected, “and I saw you dressed in white, but when you got closer, I thought that it couldn’t possibly be you. I thought that it was strange how he kept telling us to trust you and not be afraid of you, but now I understand. You are a vampire, but you are kind.” Henry grinned and was about to retort the boy’s claim when the mages finished their work, one of them announcing, “He will live, so move on to the next person!” Henry leaned over the cadet, patting his cheek as he cheered, “You hear that Lukas? You’ll live! Freddy will be so happy!” The boy’s bleary eyes opened and gazed yet again upon his beautiful savior and feebly asked, “What is your name..?” With a bell-like laugh, Henry replied, “My name is Henry.”

“Henri,” the cadet mumbled, “is a rather cute name… Will I ever see you again..?” 

“When the bats hunt is when you shall see me. You will see me again. Now, silly boy, rest well—” Henry’s head snapped up, his eyes opened wide with his pupils fully blown. Shaken, his voice dropped in pitch as he stated, “Frederick is bleeding. I must go.” Henry stood and left the cadet with his friend to break through the frontlines once more in search of his beloved to destroy that which has caused him pain. He felt a deep seeded  _ need _ to protect that knight which made him feel loved to the core of his being, which gave the foul beast his own sacred blood. An arrow pierced the dirt by the vampire’s foot, reeking of the rarest blood. As if the arrow had pierced Henry himself, a thoughtless rage fueled by fear overtook him and urged him on to save his beloved. 

_Archers,_ Frederick spat in his mind, _why did it have to be archers?_ _Where did they even_ get _archers?_

Mages were a particular danger, especially to an armored knight like himself, but there was only one mage left who had made herself rather difficult to find and had the power to teleport. She had just ran behind a line of archers, which were more of an annoyance to Frederick than a danger. He had to dismount and urge his horse to safety before turning back to handle the archers. Feeling an arrow nick the side of his face, Frederick only grew more annoyed as he approached the line cautiously waiting for the mage to resurface. Another arrow grazed his neck, causing Frederick to reason that they at least had the sense to aim for his head. How they could have possibly hoped to have infiltrated the town with such a lackluster force, Frederick was angrily ignorant of. In time, he made it to the line of archers who only scattered to reveal the mage on her hands and knees, spilling the blood from a slit in her neck onto a sigil burned into the earth. A black gate filled in the area of the sigil and out rose a true beast. 

A shadow fell over Frederick as a hideous amalgamation of dead bodies stepped onto the earth, hundreds of red eyes glaring down at him and the scattered archers. The bodies formed one giant beast reminiscent of a man’s shape, grabbing at the weaker archers and tearing them into pieces to add to its bulk. It was bloody, horrifying, and awful. The cadets would die if they faced it and merely become part of the collection. For the first time in years, Frederick felt fear. As a child picks a flower, the beast uprooted a tree to wield as a club. Frederick kicked himself for sending away his horse; he would be too slow with all of his armor to escape.

Behind him, he heard his name being shouted as Henry rode in on the knight’s horse, the other Shepherds following close behind. The cadets had been pushed back with the healers approaching as close as they could without putting themselves at risk. The beast began to reach out for Frederick when Henry let loose a spell which crushed the opposing arm in a black web, effectively binding the beast as Frederick mounted his horse behind Henry and urged the horse on, outside the beast’s range as it broke free from the spell and threw the tree at the Shepherds. Slowly, they drew the beast out of the forest and into the clearing where they began circling around it and striking at any opening, but they were barely making a dent in the creature’s fleshy defense. If they managed to cut off part of the mass, the creature would simply pick it back up and affix it to itself elsewhere. Muriel proposed freezing the body, cutting off the frozen parts, shattering the icy flesh, and repeating, so the Shepherds began the dangerous process. Muriel would freeze the outermost limbs, Frederick would narrowly miss death every time he moved in to chop off the frozen limbs, Stahl would smash the pieces, Libra would heal the group and assist as necessary, and Henry was tasked with striking at any possible weak point and distracting the beast. The vampire dismounted and began to sprint about the monster like a wolf on a hunt, his attacks striking with all the force in his small body. Unlike with the Risen, Henry’s attacks were no longer showy or bloody; the carnage he dealt was silent and devastating. As they carved off more pieces, the beast grew faster and more desperate, letting out an ear piercing screech. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Frederick realized that he was deaf. The horses were spooked and quickly becoming uncontrollable, so Stahl and Frederick had to dismount or risk being thrown off. In a rage, the beast stuck Muriel, throwing her into the line of mages. Frederick turned back just in time to narrowly miss an attack aimed at himself, rolling out of the way. Looking around, he saw blood leaking from his allies’ ears and felt blood seeping out of his own. His head throbbing, his footing unsure, Frederick knew that they had to end the fight soon. Henry’s movements were growing slower, but the beast was getting weaker and had been reduced to half height. Henry, once clad in white, had been bathed in blood and must have been an angel of death itself. Stahl was struck and sent flying into the battlefield with a brutal swing of the beast’s arm. He did not rise. Frederick saw the terror in the eyes of the cadets. What was supposed to be an easy victory had turned into a bloodbath.

Desperately, Frederick met Henry’s quickly hazing eyes and realized how short on time they truly were. Just as when the pair first met, he was wilting. A white flower turned red and dying. Libra was bashed away next, the beast seemingly on a rampage.

He saw fear flash in Henry’s eyes, and a horrible pain overcame the left side of his body as Frederick was sent flying. 

For the first time in his life, Henry  _ screamed. _ His body was overtaken with a familiar rage which he had not felt since he committed his first nine murders for taking away the first person to show him kindness. His cloudy vision went completely dark as he was engulfed by his smoldering fury. 

Frederick had only been unconscious for a brief moment, but those few seconds were enough to shake the cadets to their cores. The mages had enough sense to heal him so the pain in his side was reduced to a throb, but when his hearing returned, all the teacher heard was his students begging him for guidance, despairing for their lives, and coming to the realization of what war meant. Over the noise, a horrible screeching noise crashed through, bringing out a cry from the cadets. Frederick turned his bleary eyes and watched in awe as he witnessed the god of pure destruction which his beloved had become draw out such a frightening cry of pain from the creature before him. 

The cadets silenced themselves and watched in awe and horror as the earth itself shuddered in fear at the weapon it created. Henry was wielding black magic without a tome, relying purely on his overwhelming rage to guide him through the spells he fired off with a rising murmur which built like a tsunami. Rings of shadow protected him from every strike of the beast as pitch black claws and carrions tore the beast to mere pieces. Before the monster could collect the pieces, the flesh was consumed in black flames which then only spread in a chaotically constructed web on the earth, trapping the beast like a mere animal as he burned, shocked, crushed, and tore at the beast while it shrieked in pain. 

Even when his beloved was so enraged, Frederick only found himself falling deeper in love. Like Ragnarok itself, Henry was demolishing everything around him and even himself. The assault was meant to be his swan song, Frederick realized when he saw how pale Henry was becoming. Pushing himself to stand, Frederick brushed off the hands of the medics and took a spear from a cadet before running to support Henry. He shouted out to his beloved before realizing that Henry still could not hear, so despite the danger of approaching Henry, he trusted that he would not be hurt by his rampaging lover. As he grew closer, he saw tears falling from Henry’s face and pushed away every reservation to help his beloved in need who had fallen to the rage he felt as he witnessed the death of his loving wolf. 

Henry grit his teeth and let out a growl upon sensing Frederick’s presence and released a continuous and violent gale which pushed Frederick away so forcefully that his boots left trenches in the soil with every step. Desperately, he reached out to Henry, straining his arm to touch the sphere of shadow which had engulfed him as the knight’s hair and clothes blew back. 

When Frederick’s hand finally made contact, the palm of his glove was completely eviscerated, but when Frederick’s flesh touched, the sphere disappeared in a bright and violent flash as Frederick could physically feel Henry’s relief. Henry’s limp body collapsed in his protector’s loving arms as he softly voiced, “ _ Frederick..?  _ You  _ frightened  _ me, Freddy…” Despite the exhaustion evident in his voice, Frederick felt Henry’s hands weakly grip his priest’s clothes, nuzzling his cold body against Frederick’s warm one. After a brief moment, Henry explained, “The monster is vulnerable at its core; I… stripped it down quite a bit, so a simple stab should end its reign. You must finish what I started, my love…” As he held Henry’s limp body close to his chest, Frederick looked to the beast and saw rays of light leaping out from the deep claw marks Henry’s curse had left behind and gently laid Henry down to rest among the grass and wildflowers. The beast, bound by the black flames, was frantically attempting to escape, still lashing out its arms to kill the knight and wreak havoc upon the cadets. With cold disinterest, Frederick drove the spear into the beast, pushing on it with his full weight and twisting the blade to deal greater damage. The beast screeched and writhed in the flames but could not break free as the priest pierced the light. With a groan, it collapsed to the ground to be consumed by the flames and turned into ash. Frederick then turned to his lover and gathered his lithe body in his arms, cradling his head against his own neck and pleading, “ _ Drink, Henry… Please drink… You must hurry, or we will not get the chance, my love.” _ Henry weakly murmured an apology before he pierced the priest’s holy flesh and began to drink the blessed scarlet blood. “Take as much as you desire, my love,” Frederick instructed, “You worked very hard today, and I must thank you.” 

The mage cadets took to the battlefield to heal the thwarted Shepherds, gathering around the unconscious soldiers to heal their injuries and load them onto stretchers to be carried to the infirmary. They reached the couple last and checked the barely-conscious vampire for injuries; his broken bones, bruises, and scars were so numerous that the cadets grew extremely concerned. Practically the Shepherd’s entire rib cage was broken, allowing his heart to be free and vulnerable like an uncaged bird. When a few cadets noticed their patient’s sharp fangs, they withdrew quickly and even moved on to other patients despite Henry’s obvious need. Despite Henry not being able to see a single thing, he was calmed by the familiar sensation of his protector’s hands holding him. Slowly, he was overtaken and slipped under the waves of unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the horses got healed too so they’re fine)
> 
> long time no see😔 life has been a little crazy so it’s a bit of a shorter chapter today. im sorry. maybe some of you like shorter chapters? idk. anyways, im done with finals!! so!! maybe this will go a bit faster!! im also about to post my little side project (which is also,, like,, 20,000 words,,) anywho,, yeah. thanks for sticking with me this far lmao. means a lot to me.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah im sorry lmao. its embarrassing to post this stuff, but i actually liked (??) how it turned out. out of my four other fredry fics, this one is the newest and most refined so i decided to post this one first. i already have uhhh 30 more pages of this so ill post more chapters when i can review them to make sure nothing is Glaringly Bad. one of the other fics i may post is a slow burn so thats why they kiss so fast in this one. i couldnt stop man. im 160 pages into the other one and they arent even married yet, which was the main reason i made it. let me know any suggestions for formatting/chapter lengths since i am still Very New to this "posting stuff online" thing
> 
> anyways!! thank you guys so much for getting through this with me!!


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